Starfall
by applepiethis
Summary: Myria Dayne has been a mystery to most in King's Landing. Why would the Dayne family allow the daughter of the famous Sword of The Morning to remain as a ward in the Red Keep for over 17 years? Why has she not tried to leave herself? How will she fit into the Game as it is just beginning?
1. Chapter 1

Jaime Lannister could feel the heat of King's Landing beating down on his back as he strode through the gardens of the Red Keep. He thought to himself as he wandered towards his destination on why Robert wanted him to be the one to complete this specific tasks. Perhaps to finally give him a reprieve of listening to the fat king insult his sister's honor with all of the whores coming to and from the royal bedchamber. No, Robert enjoyed lording his ventures over the golden haired knight far too much. Does it matter in the end, maybe Robert just does not care on who he sent. He may just want it done as soon as can be.

Gods know why he wants _her _to accompany the royal procession on their way to Winterfell, but he would not argue to stretching his legs. As Jaime continues his small self-conversation he rounds a corner of plant hedge to be greeted with the sight of the woman, whose existence alone strikes a hot flash of guilt into most in the keep, sitting peacefully on a bench with a wooden circle of embroidery in hand.

As she swiftly thread the needle through the fabric Jaime could see a small outline of a fallen star upon the silk. He glanced at her face as she concentrated on her project; she was graced with light tan, smooth skin along with the most piercing purple eyes he had ever witnessed. Her ink black hair hung in light waves around her face as she refused to wear her hair in any courtly manner. Her pale yellow dress only accentuating her Dornish features more than usual.

Jaime cleared his throat and the amethyst gems sitting in her beautiful heart-shaped face glanced up at the golden-haired man. She gracefully set aside her work, smoothed out her dress, and patted the space next to her on the bench while giving him a sweet, motherly smile.

"Jaime," her voice rang out light a tempting breeze," "please come sit with me for a spell. With you guarding the king as of late I have barely seen you my friend." And if words could murder he would have bled out right then and there. The Gods only know how she could count him as a friend after he betrayed her father, her family, and herself. But Jaime knew out of everyone in King's Landing, Myria Dayne has the largest heart and soul. She would forgive people who she truly saw honor within them, and she somehow saw some within him.

"How could I refuse the request of such a beautiful lady, especially since I bare interesting news for yourself." Jaime strode over towards the bench and carefully sat next to Myria as she scooted over to make room for the knight's gleaming white armor, quirking her eyebrow at his statement.

"And what sort of news do you bring for me? Is it something to do with your father wishing me to wed Lancel again," She rolled her eyes, "Honestly I do not wish to be married to him. He is such a bore." Jaime chuckled at her tenacity.

"No Myria, the king wishes for you to begin packing for the trip up to the North. He asked that you personally attend to Princess Myrcella along the journey." Myria nodded her head at his words. She herself had been serving as a companion for the little fawn princess ever since the girl was born. The Dornish girl counted Myrcella as her closest friend, practically her sister.

"Good to know I will not be left behind as I had come to believe. After the queen herself told he so harshly that I was not to accompany you lot I feared I was to be married off while everyone was away." Jaime understood her fear. Cersei had always been displeased by the Dayne girl watching over her daughter under the king's orders, and had hatched multiple plots to marry the girl off over the years. Though all of the plots had been stopped as quickly as they were learned of it did not deter Cersei from her goal to have Myria as far from the royal court as possible.

Myria remembered the first time Cersei had attempted to expel her from court. She had been 13 years old and had just flowered a month before when a Frey boy was invited to the palace. He followed the dornish girl around like a lost puppy and when Myria asked Jaime why he immediately rushed to Cersei's solar. She then casually explained to her brother how she wanted to ship the girl off to the Twins to remain in the rainy Riverlands for the rest of her life. Jaime quickly sent the matter to the king, who became enraged at his wife's arrogance. The Frey boy was sent home, Cersei proudly wore a large purple bruise on her face for over a week, and Myria forever kept her eyesight out for anymore suitors coming her way. After the Frey boy she had evaded Loras Tyrell, Lancel Lannister, a handful of Dornish suitors, and even the king's brother Renly.

She knew marriage was an absolute sooner or later, but not to a man the queen threw at her. She wanted a man who would treat her with as much honor as Jaime has given her over the years. Even though she knew much of his kind treatment started as a way to respect her father's wishes.

Myria was snapped from her thoughts as Jaime stood from the bench and offered his arm to his friend. She smiled at his action, swept up her embroidery, and took his arm. Jaime began to lead them out of the gardens and into Maegor's Holdfast towards her room. She was given a fairly comfortable room for a hostage of the crown, large and nicely decorated.

"Are you looking forward to the travel up north? Will you be able to handle the colder temperatures with your Dornish blood?" Jaime jested as they neared her room.

Myria giggled at him, "I believe if I get cold I can simply adorn myself with a fur lined cloak or dress."

"Ah yes, but you do not have any made for the trip do you?" She shook her head at his words.

"No I do not," she concedes, "But it will take us a month of travel from King's Landing to reach Winterfell if we are going the normal pace, so I can sew my own cloak while we move through the Riverlands." Jaime smirked and nodded at her answer. He could not fault her sound logic in the end. They arrived at her chamber door and Myria untangled her arm from Jaime's as he slightly bowed to her before turning on his heel and heading back toward the royal chambers.

Myria turned and entered her room, latching the door shut once she closed it behind her. She walked over to her four poster bed and sat her embroidery upon the sheets. She then wandered over to the small table near the window with a few chairs, a bowl of fruit, and a pitcher of water. Pouring herself a cup she thought on the king's sudden change of heart to bring her along after the queen convinced him to leave her behind when they first planned the trip to Winterfell a week ago. She knew there were very few reasons why he would truly change his mind, since he barely paid attention to the dornish girl throughout the whole 17 years of her existence. Guilt? Remorse over her fate? Marriage? A chance to finally pass her off to some other lord?

Myria steeled her mind before it wandered to any worse case scenarios. She knew at least the king would not put her in harm's way, and if he had a mind of betrothing her then he would find a worthy candidate instead of all the puppets Cersei has thrown at her. She blinked her eyes and shuffled over to her wardrobe and began to pull out the outfits she deemed appropriate for a journey north. She would be prepared for anything the Old or New Gods would throw her way.

She spent the next few hours packing up her needed belongings when a knock sounded upon her door. Myria could hear the giggles of children outside and swiftly walked to the threshold and flung open the door to greet the little prince and princess. Myrcella and Tommen were graced with their mother's emerald green eyes along with her soft blonde curls, but they were unlike the Lannister side of the family with their temperament. They both were soft, sweet, and kind. The most perfect children anyone could ask for.

"Myria! Mother just told us you are coming to the north. We will have so much fun together along the way!" Myrcella rushed over and wrapped her body around Myria's, her head nestled into her stomach. Tommen, the little angel, toddled over and hugged her legs as close as he could.

"I was sad when mommy said no to you coming My, but now I'm happy." Tommen muttered into her thigh. She smiled at both of the Baratheon children and patted their backs.

"Why of course I am coming. I am in charge of your care am I not? How could I let my favorite children go to the cold, scary north alone?" The blondes giggled at her playful tone and released her body from theirs.

Myrcella stuttered out, "I think father wants to marry one of us to one of the Stark children. I hope it's Joff, I would love to have a sister." Tommen nodded along with his big sister's statement.

"I am sure whoever your father chooses it will be well. The Starks are the most honorable family in all of Westeros and anyone would be lucky to join their family," She then turned the children around and started walking them back to their rooms. "Now let's make sure you both are completely packed. Have to make sure all of your things are properly taken care of before we leave." She led the two fawns through the Holdfast smiling at all of the guards and ladies in waiting they passed by. Many people tended to ignore the purple eyed girl even when she was accompanying the royal family. Most treated her like a pariah, as if she was a bug under their shoe. She did not mind at all though. Less people to bother her with all of their pointless problems.

As they approached the royal wing Myria could hear shouting between two people and she knew the voices of the queen and king were not going to quiet anytime soon. It was a common occurrence between the two monarchs and she knew that whatever they were fighting about now could range from the carpets to their children.

King Robert's voice shattered through the air like lightning during a storm,"She will come with and that is final!"

The queen's sharp reply not far behind, "Why allow the little Dornish harlot the privilege!? She has done nothing but-"

"The Dayne girl has been nothing but loyal to the crown for years! It is time for her to have some goddamn peace! Ned will agree and that is the end of it." Robert sighed and Myria along with the children heard him pour a drink. "You've wanted her gone from the court for years now, so why complain to this arrangement?" They did not hear another reply, but quickly saw the queen round the corner her face covered with rage. She turned her gaze up and the rage turned murderous when she saw Myria with her two younger children. She swept towards them, gathered up her daughter and son, and left with them glaring at the girl throughout the whole process.

Myria took in a breath and wandered back to her quarters. She knew whatever the king was speaking of may not end well for herself, since she was definitely within the queen's firing range now.


	2. Chapter 2

The cold wind bit harshly into Jon's grim face as he stood in the training yard of Winterfell. It had been a month since the whole castle had gotten wind of the king's journey North and everyone was rushing about in an attempt of clean every little crevice of the castle. Jon's half brother, Robb, stood with him as they watched their younger brother, Bran, practice his archery. Whenever he would fire an arrow one of them would give little pieces of advice or correct his stance a tad so he could better his aim. All three were enjoying the small amount of family bonding before they had to go prepare for the king's arrival.

"So you really think mother wants you two shaved for the king?" Bran turned to his older brothers as he asked. Robb laughed at his little brother's question.

"Course she wants us shaved, have to make a good first impression for the royal family." Jon nodded his head along with his brother. Bran shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the archery bulls-eye. Jon sighed at the thought of cleaning himself for the royal family visiting. Why does he have to shave, it's not like lady Stark would even let him meet any part of the royal family. She would consider it insulting to present her husband's bastard to the king and queen of Westeros. Some days he wondered why she let him stay in Winterfell at all. Why she didn't just ship him off to the Wall now that he's old enough? His brother's voice slipped him out of his stupor and back into reality.

"Wonderful work Bran, but Jon and I must head to get ready now," Robb patted his younger brother's back while nodding towards himself and Jon. "You should go get ready too."

"Or I could go play with Summer?" Jon smirked at the childlike hope in Bran's face as he looked at his older brothers.

Robb scratched his beard as he smiled at the younger Stark, "As long as you don't go climbing, you know what mother said about you and climbing." He nodded his head and Robb grabbed Jon's shoulder leading him away from the yard and into the keep to meet with Theon and the barber. As they wandered into the castle they passed Arya stuffed into a dress running away from Septa Mordane while she attempted to remove said dress. No surprise since Arya had always detested the more feminine activities she was supposed to enjoy. Their father always said she took after her Aunt Lyanna in looks and spirit, and since Arya carried the Stark coloring it was no shocker she would have more wolfish characteristics to her personality as well.

They both chuckled at their younger sister's fleeing and continued on their way. They rounded the corner and spotted Theon Greyjoy heading towards them with a large roguish smirk on his face. The Ironborn lad who had spent the last ten years as their father's ward was always a joyful soul. He had dusty blond hair with sea blue eyes, and a tall lean structure unlike the broad shouldered Starks. He carried himself as if he was entitled to everything he set his eyes on and he most definitely acted that way around women he came into contact with. He had practically visited every brothel in Winter Town and prided himself with that fact. Jon personally thought it was sad how Theon boasted about his sexual exploits all the time, but who was he to judge. He had not yet laid with a woman, so he had no true word on the matter. At least that was what Theon said whenever Jon tried to throw his two cents in, or he just muttered how a bastard's word did not mean much. Robb always reprimanded Theon when his words became too harsh, but the damage was usually already done.

While Theon strode forward and embraced Jon's brother he waited in the background as he usually did. Robb being the heir to Winterfell was far more important than Jon, but both had grown up as equals. At least that's what their father said, but Robb was taught state affairs while Jon was taught military history. Robb was taught how to run a castle while Jon was taught how to win theoretical battles. It seemed like their father planned different paths for them, but still claimed they were headed in the same direction. Jon guessed his training was to eventually be useful to assist Robb in running and defending Winterfell, but he felt it would be a waste. In Winterfell he would remain a Stark bastard and a thorn in lady Catelyn's eyes.

"Oh look, Snow's started his brooding early today," Theon's quip bringing Jon's attention back towards him. "What's got your small-clothes in a twist this time?" Jon shook his head at the Greyjoy's callus language as Robb chuckled at the comment.

"Now Theon play nice, I think Jon here is just worried about meeting the royal family." Theon nodded his head at Robb's statement as all three of them wandered into the room the barber, Tommy, was set up in. The three removed their shirts in preparation as Tommy was finishing with Jory Cassel, the Master at Arm's son. Jon and the others were hit with a slight warmth as they undressed and were glad the castle was built over natural hot springs. It was ironically always warm inside the walls because of that fact along with the water of the bath areas on the lower levels of the keep.

Once Jory sat up and went to retrieve his own shirt the barber grabbed Theon and shoved him into the chair. As he began to shave of the light peach fuzz dusting the Greyjoy's face the three boys stuck up some light banter.

"So I heard some interesting quips about the king's entourage." Robb and Jon raised their eyebrows at Theon's teasing voice. They both knew it was either about a girl or the royal family themselves. "They are bringing a Dornish girl." Yep, a girl. No surprise there.

Robb seemed surprised at his statement, "A Dornish girl? Would she not freeze to death up here?" Jon shrugged when his brother turned to him for his opinion. "Is she one of the queen's ladies in waiting?"

Theon muttered a quick 'I don't know' as Tommy moved the blade down his neck.

"Must be it. Father says that Dorne is not on good terms with the crown. So we most likely would not see any Dornish people at all unless they are serving the crown. Have no reason to come this far north otherwise." Robb suggested as Theon got up and he replaced the blonde in the barber's chair. Theon pulled his shirt back on as he rubbed his now clear face.

He grumbled at Robb, "But why bring her to the North if Dorne has such poor relations with the crown?"

Jon shuffled his feet, "Maybe to better relations with Dorne. Might be an ambassador of sorts." Theon raised his eyebrow at the Snow's comment.

"Why send a girl to be an ambassador, unless they want more intimate relations with you Northern men." He winked at Robb while Jon looked away from Theon blushing.

He thought upon Theon's statement though. Perhaps the king wished to bring the North and Dorne together. It might strengthen relations with all of the seven kingdoms especially the royal family. Jon figured the Dornish despised the Lannisters even more than the Northerners did. None of the men in the North trusted any Lannister with anything of value ever since Robert's Rebellion ended 17 years ago. When his father, Eddard Stark, came home and told his bannermen what Tywin Lannister did to King's Landing and what Jaime Lannister did to King Aerys most called for Jaime's head as a kingslayer, but the king refused and instead anointed the blonde knight onto his own kingsguard.

While Robb's hair was lopped off Jon listened to his brother and Theon's banter. He then posed the question on all three of their minds since the morning, "Why is your mother so dead set on us getting pretty for the king?"

"It's for the queen I bet, heard she's a sleek bit of mink." Theon winked at Jon as he joked.

"Hear the prince is a right royal prick," Robb butted in.

Theon smiled, "Think of all those southern girls he gets to stab with his right royal prick."

Robb hopped out of the chair and threw his shirt back onto his torso. His auburn curls bounced as he moved through the room. His Tully blue eyes passed over Jon as he smirked and said, "Go on Tommy, shave him good. Never met a girl he likes better than his own hair." Theon laughed while Jon sighed and placed himself into the chair. Robb was not wrong with his words, Jon did prefer having a beard over his face and his long, black curly hair. It made him feel a little bit more like a Stark, sporting a look like his father's.

While the older boys were having their hair shaved and cut, Bran was exploring the upper ramparts of the castle. Climbing his way to the roof was one of his favorite pastimes in Winterfell, even though he knew his mother disapproved of it. He didn't understand why his mother was so worried about him climbing, as he had been doing it for years and had never fallen. He was always surefooted, and his whole family knew. Once he reached the side of the roof he crawled his way up while Summer, his direwolf, barked at him from the ground.

His dark auburn hair waved in the cool breeze as he shuffled over the roof towards the outer wall of the castle. He grasped onto the stone wall while his dark brown eyes glanced over the horizon. He could make out an outline of a large parade of horses, carriages, and caravans of food. The climbing child's face broke into a grin as he turned and ran back to the edge of the roof starting his climb back to the ground. As he was climbing he heard the sharp voice of his mother, "Brandon!"

"I saw the king. He's got hundreds of people!" Bran called out to his mother as he climbed down towards her.

When he jumped the final few feet and landed nearby Summer he could see his mother making her way towards him along with Maester Luwin. "How many times have I told you: No climbing!?"

He pouted at his mother, "But he's coming right now! Down our road!"

Catelyn Stark walked up to her young son and bent down to his eye level, "I want you to promise me: No more climbing." Bran glanced down at his feet before he looked his mother in the eye.

"I promise."

Catelyn stood up and smirked at her son, "Do you know what?"

"What?"

"You always look at your feet before you lie," Bran smiled and giggled a little. "Run and find your father. Tell him the king is close." Bran took off towards his father's solar to warn him of the king's arrival. While he was rushing into the castle he passed his older sister, Arya.

She quietly slipped into the training yard in a pale blue dress lined with fur covered in her grey cloak. She wandered over to where some men were chatting and sneakily grabbed one of their helmets, placed it upon her head, and rushed outside the gates of Winterfell toward Winter Town. She heard her mother and Bran talking and wanted a closer look at the royal procession before they reached the gates. She squeezed her way through the crowd and up onto an empty cart. She sat herself down right as the soldiers at the front made their way through the city gates and passed where the cart was set. She watched the men ride through as she observed the Baratheon Stag and Lannister Lion banners. She also saw the golden-haired crown prince ride through the gate along with a man riding behind him in a dog-shaped helmet. She watched the large man ride along with the prince before she noticed a small woman upon a white horse behind the prince.

The woman looked slightly older than her sister, Sansa, but far more beautiful. She had light tan skin, which was fairly uncommon up in the dismal North. She noticed she had long, midnight black hair in a braid with clips designed to look like flowers sitting in it. She wore a fur lined purple and grey dress with light star patterns upon the hem. When she was about to leave the cart to return to the keep she made eye contact with the pretty woman and witnessed the most amazing eyes. She had deep purple eyes! Like the Targaryen family Old Nan would tell her about when she was little.

She smiled at Arya and tilted her head at the small girl before moving her horse onward. Arya was stunned for a second before jumping off the cart and rushing back to Winterfell. She ran through the gates and up to her father, who was lined up with the rest of her family and all of the servants of Winterfell behind them. Before she could run to the open spot between Bran and Sansa her father caught her and pulled her towards him.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey." He pulled the helmet off of her head. "What are you doing with that on? Go on." He lightly pushed he back to her spot in line and passed the helmet to a man behind himself. Everyone in the yard stood still and waited for the king to come through the gates of Winterfell. When the horses started to make their way through Ned Stark was slightly surprised to not see his friend Robert at the very front of the procession, but instead the crown prince.

Robb glared lightly at the prince while the blonde prick eyed his sister Sansa up and down. Everyone observed as a woman came riding up behind the prince with a light laugh and many were stunned not only by her riding a horse in the first place, but also her beauty. Eddard Stark was shocked to see the almost mirror image of Ashara Dayne laughing upon the white horse, dressed in Dayne colors of purple and grey no less.

Her haunting purple eyes scanned the crowd and landed on a pair of deep grey eyes behind the main Stark family. The owner of said eyes frozen under her piercing gaze and her warm smile. He wondered if she knew who he was and was curious or if she was just honestly interested in him, but he figured it was the first choice. Who would be interested in a bastard?


	3. Chapter 3

Damnit, she hated when Jaime was correct; it always made him so smug and he would give her a shit eating grin every time he was right about something. She bet he was doing right now, as the cold wind chilled her to the bone. Even when she spent the whole time through the Riverlands sewing thick fabric dresses with fur lining she was still cold in said dresses. Her cloak did well with keeping the humidity's chill off of her body, but did little to repel the quick gusts of wind. It would be better if she was inside of the carriage, but she refused to be stuck in a confined space with the queen. She knew the spiteful woman would only spend the time belittling and mocking her. Instead she went on horseback for most of the trip, ignoring the odd looks she got from the other riders. She rode mostly next to Jaime or Tyrion, and would end up spending most of the day cracking jokes or hearing interesting tales of Tyrion's travels.

"I don't want to say I told you so, but I recall mentioning how you may not handle the cold well." she could hear Jaime's smirk in his tone without even seeing it. She glanced to her right where Jaime sat upon his own steed and shot him a steely glare. Jaime's smile widened even more for eliciting a reaction out of the poor freezing girl.

A cheerful voice broke out before she could tell the knight off, "Now brother don't tease the girl. Even I am cold this far North. Most of the men are also freezing in their own clothes." Tyrion rode up on Myria's left as he defended her against his older brother. The Imp of House Lannister may be considered a deviant to many people, but Myria always smiled when she was around her dwarfish friend. He had the classic Lannister features of golden hair and entitlement, but he had one blue eye and one green eye to add to his list of imperfections. At least in his mind. Myria thought it was a unique feature to be born with.

"Tyrion, I was wondering when you would catch up with the procession," Jaime spoke up. "I was worried you would be left behind in the brothel you slept in last night."

"Yes such a shame, being left behind with a plethora of gorgeous women who want to satisfy my every whim. Oh woe is me brother." Myria closed her eyes at his comment, she knew Tyrion would not mind being left behind at all in that circumstance. She could hear both men chuckle and she was glad for the light hearted conversation, crude comments aside. She was used to the brothers' banter by now, most of the comments not even fazing her. "Is our lovely nephew not going to join us on the horses? Or is he planning on hiding in his mother's skirts when we ride into Winterfell today?" Myria held in a laugh at Tyrion's jab at Joffrey, the crown prince.

The annoying boy may be a year younger than Myria, but he most certainly did not act like it. He was harsh and cruel to his siblings, uncles, servants, and even his personal guard. The only people he treated with a shred of dignity were his parents, and Myria guessed it was only because they were the king and queen. If they would have been a lord and a lady he would probably hate them too. Gods know he acted like he hated everyone around him. He was especially a sadistic monster to his younger siblings more than anyone, even going to the lengths of skinning Tommen and Myrcella's pets over the years. Myria had attempted to stand between the younger Baratheon's and his rage once when she was 10, but only ended up with a nasty scar on her forearm and a week in a cell for 'assaulting the crown prince'. She was glad to take the punishment because she was able to protect Tommen and Myrcella from being stabbed by their older brother instead. Though afterwards Jaime and the king both insisted she stay far from the prince and she was not one to object.

She had seen little of the boy since then and she was glad to not see much during the journey. Prince Joffrey claimed riding on horseback the whole journey was a foolish way of wasting energy, but she and others knew he was shoddy at best on stay up on a horse for hours on end. Not to mention he would whine the whole time about the weather and his upcoming betrothal to one of the Stark girls. She knew however he would soon be pulled from the carriage by his father and ride a horse into Winterfell like the gallant prince he is supposed to be.

Speaking of which she could hear the king's yelling as the line of horses came to a halt. "I do not care what he wants. Joffrey is the crown prince and he will ride at the front of the line whether he likes it or not!" She pulled her white mare to a stop while she watched Ser Barristan Selmy hop off his horse and approach the carriage. She sat and waited as the prince was pulled from the wooden box whining about the cold. He was quickly put up on a horse and led to the front of the line along with his guard, Sandor Clegane or as some called him, the Hound.

"You Dayne girl!" Myria quickly jumped at the king's voice. "You ride at the front too, need a pretty face with all of the bloody men." She nudged her horse forward toward the king and the crown prince. "Barristan, keep an eye on the girl. She looks frozen to the damn bone." The king went back to his own area of the procession as Ser Barristan began to silently follow the Dornish woman now riding behind the crown prince.

Myria stayed quiet as she rode near the prince, stuck listening to his pointless rambles. She wished she was back near Jaime and Tyrion, but they were told near the beginning of the trip to stay near the carriage in case the queen or the children required something.

Ser Barristan observed the purple eyed woman as they continued onward. Sometimes looking at her was like looking into the face of his old friend Ser Arthur, and sometimes it was like looking at his lost love Ashara. She resembled the Dayne side of her family so well, baring almost no resemblance to her mother's Arryn traits. He always wondered how Ser Arthur Dayne, Sword of The Morning and sworn sword to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, ended up marrying the sweet Clara Arryn, younger sister to the late Jon Arryn. Most did not even know of their marriage until Clara gave birth to their daughter in King's Landing a month after Princess Elia Martell gave birth to her own son, Aegon. He recalled how happy Arthur was when he first set eyes on his baby girl, promising to always protect her. He also recalled how Clara and little Myria went missing after Rhaegar ran off with Lyanna Stark, only for Lord Eddard Stark to bring the infant back to the capital, along with news of his sister and Clara's deaths.

King Robert insisted on keeping the baby in King's Landing even when Ned claimed Ser Arthur and Clara both asked him separately to take care of their daughter. Robert stated keeping the Dayne in the city was the only way to keep the South form rebelling after the deaths of Princess Elia and her children. Ser Barristan personally thought it cruel to keep her from her family or at least honoring her parents' final wishes for their child; but his job as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was to protect the king, not to judge him.

"Is there something you wish to say to me, Ser Barristan?" His daze was broken by her voice. "Or are you going to continue to gaze at me the whole rest of the ride?" His cheeks tinted pink for being caught staring at the young woman.

"Forgive me my lady, I did not mean to stare, you just look so much like your Aunt Ashara and your father." She looked over at the old knight with a solemn gaze.

"I never knew either of them Ser, I'm sorry," Ser Barristan felt a small flash of guilt. "Did you know them?"

He nodded his head, "Yes I did. Your father was one of the best men I ever had the pleasure of meeting, strong and chivalrous. He loved your mother to a fault. She herself was the sweetest soul in Westeros besides Princess Elia and yourself." He watched as she slowed her horse a bit and he did the same to match her pace. "You were their treasure, they both loved you so much. Your aunt Ashara loved you too, and it broke her heart when you could not go home to Starfall."

He watched as tears started to fall from her amethyst eyes. He passed her a white handkerchief from his doublet and she gratefully took it from him. She dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief as she silently sniffled. Ser Barristan heard Prince Joffrey scoff at the Dayne's crying. He knew the prince would not care why she was crying, only that the noise bothered him.

"Thank you Ser Barristan. I have barely heard a single whisper about my father's family. My uncle Jon would always tell me little things about my mother, but he refused to ever speak of my father. Like his name alone was a curse. I am glad I at least had him and my aunt Lysa growing up, even if Aunt Lysa focused more on her son Robin than anyone else."

"I am glad to give you some solace, and I am personally sorry I did not do more to watch over you growing up." Myria nodded her head at the knight and turned her horse back towards the rest of the procession. The two continued in peaceful silence as they neared the outer gates of Winter Town. Myria had never seen a cities like Winter Town in the South. The streets were clean and there were children laughing and running through the streets. People were shuffling around the town selling their wares and observing the royal procession as it carried through the town towards the castle on the hill past the town. She was happy to know the towns in the North were safe enough children could play without worry. In Flea Bottom no child could even go outside without having to look over their shoulder every three or so seconds.

She noticed some people were watching her more intently than the others, which was not surprising. Many of the small folk throughout the whole journey would single her out for their gazes, her darker skin tone exotic to the people who had never seen a true Dornish person before. She smiled and waved at a few of the people staring, and a little girl blushed and hid herself behind her mother before returning the wave. She continued to follow the prince and the rest of the entourage, but she slowed her horse as they got closer to the outer gates of Winterfell.

She could feel eyes on her yes, many countless eyes, but she felt one set of eyes burning into her head, observing and analyze her. She turned her head toward the eyes and made contact with a pair of soft grey eyes. A young girl sat on an empty cart dressed in a sky blue dress with a dark fur-lined cloak. She had straight shoulder length chocolate brown hair, dove grey eyes sparkling with excitement, along with a smile which promised adventure and fun. She appeared to be around 10 or 11 with a carefree attitude, like she had no cares or worries in her life. Myria smiled at the girl and tilted her head towards her. The girl smiled back at her before she hopped off of the cart and ran back into the crowd.

The Dornish woman continued onward following the line of horses into the gates of Winterfell. As she neared the gates she could feel a sense of ancient power which commanded silent respect flowing through the area around the keep. She understood partly why the Northerners were a prideful bunch if they lived in wondrous castles like this one, it had a special magic to it. She slowed her horse as she wandered into the training yard inside the gates and saw a sea of people lined up behind a row of seven people, two adults and and five children. She assumed they were the Stark family and the rest of the lot were the other occupants of the castle. She let her eyes roam the crowd and observed many surprised faces tracking her own, including lord Stark himself.

As her eyes wandered the crowd she met the eyes of another person with grey eyes, and by the Gods they were the most intense eyes she had ever laid her eyes on. The face the eyes were sitting must have been sculpted by the Gods, Old or New she did not care. A strong jawline, striking cheekbones, pouty lips, and those eyes which threaten to reach into her soul. She let her eyes continue down his body following his broad shoulders all the way down to his sturdy legs. She had never wished for a man to undress himself in her company, but she would not complain if he decided to do so right then and there.

She might even thank him.

Unfortunately, Myria's attention was shocked back to the procession as the carriage and the king arrived, and while the queen was escorted from her carriage the king proceeded to dismount from his horse. It was almost embarrassing to see the king of the seven kingdoms using a stool to remove himself from a horse, but the man would fall on his ass if he got down the normal way.

Once he was fully on the ground everyone including the Starks knelt to the ground in front of their king. He wandered up to Ned Stark and lifted his hand to raise him back to his feet. When the lord of Winterfell stood back up all of the rest behind him got back onto their feet as well. Lord Stark nodded his head at the king while he muttered, "Your Grace."

King Robert glanced at his old friend, "You've got fat."

Eddard Stark simply raised his eyebrows and pointed at the king's own bulging stomach. They both stared quietly at the other before bursting into laughter and embracing each other. Robert pulled away from his friend and turned to his wife happily calling her by her nickname, "Cat." He pulled the auburn lady of Winterfell into a tight hug as well while the woman muttered 'Your Grace'.

He rubbed the smallest child's head before moving back to Ned, "Nine years, I have not seen you where the hell have you been?"

"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours." Robert nodded before moving down the line.

"What have we here?" He shook the oldest child's hand. "You must be Robb." He passed the pretty red head and smirked at her. "You're a pretty one." She smiled and looked down with a light blush on her face. He stopped at the young grey eyed girl Myria had seen earlier on the cart in Winter Town, "Your name is?"

She shuffled her feet, "Arya." The king nodded his head at her before stopping in front of the last son in line

"Show us your muscles," The boy stretched out his arm and flexed it a bit. Robert laughed and muttered, "You'll be a soldier someday." The king stepped away from Ned's children while the queen wandered up to the line. She extended her hand toward the lord of Winterfell and he lightly grasped it while bending into a bow.

"My Queen." Queen Cersei nodded her head at the man while his wife also bowed her head with a mutter of 'My Queen' as well. The queen turned to collect her children to introduce them to the Stark family when the king's voice broke through the courtyard.

"Dayne, get off your horse and introduce yourself." Myria was frozen upon hearing the king's words. She could feel the queen's gaze burning into her, Jaime and Tyrion's worried eyes, and the shocked faces of the people of Winterfell as Ser Barristan held out his hand to assist her down. She grasped Selmy's hand and quickly hopped from her mare. She ducked her head as she shuffled by the queen and up to lord Stark. She raised her eyes to meet with the man's fatherly gaze as he looked down at the girl who he retrieved from the Tower of Joy nearly 17 years ago.

She gave the man a curtsy as a quiet 'My Lord' and he swept the Dornish child into his arms. She was startled, but lightly hugged him in return. As he pulled away from her he whispered in her ear, "It's good to see you safe, Myria."

The king spoke before she could form words, "Good to see you still remember her, Ned. Myria Dayne has grown up well in King's Landing." He then nodded towards a corridor off from the main entrance to the inside of the keep. "Take me to your crypts. I wish to pay my respects."

"We've been riding a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait?" Cersei's sharp voice cut into the deathly silent courtyard. The king simply turned and gave her a look before turning back to the door he gestured to.

"Ned." He walked off and the stoic lord followed.

Once the king had left the courtyard the tense atmosphere left a bit, and when the queen turned away from the poor Dornish woman, Myria finally relaxed her stance. It was almost as if the king was trying to get his wife to strangle her with her own cold hands. She tried to push the thought from her head as she curtsied at the lady of Winterfell. "My lady, thank you for having us here in Winterfell. The North is so beautiful, more snow than I've seen in my entire lifetime."

Catelyn Stark smiled at the girl and outstretched her hand to her, "We are always happy to host the royal court. If you would like lady Dayne my daughter, Sansa, would be honored to escort you to your room." Myria nodded her head with a smile and the red-headed girl rushed up to her and wrapped her pale arm around her own tan one.

As she was being led into the castle she looked back one more time and was lucky enough to meet with the man's grey eyes once more. She would be certain to ask about him once she settled into her room.


	4. Chapter 4

Arya sprinted through the halls as she headed towards the room Sansa sent lady Dayne to a few hours ago. As she ran, avoiding all of the other people wandering to and from destinations, she thought on the tan girl who stirred up such a ruckus in the training yard a few hours ago. She jumped out of the way of a maid running by with a handful of sheets as she wondered on the mysterious figure. Why was she here? Why did the king present her? Was she valuable to the crown or was she valuable to someone else? Arya supposed it did not matter much and she continued on her path weaving her way through the mass of servants.

The small girl rounded the corner and suddenly crashed into a hard chest. She stumbled a bit, but a hand reached out to steady her before she could fall over. She glanced up to see her brother, Jon.

"Why you rushing so fast down the hall?" Jon looked down at his younger sister.

She shrugged her shoulders, "I was distracted, sorry Jon. I have to go to lady Myria's room. Mother insisted." Jon quirked his eyebrow at her words.

"Would lady Stark not send Sansa or one of the maids, surely they can help lady Dayne get ready for the feast better than you?" Arya sighed at her brother's question.

"I was sent to bring her father's solar, not to help her with her hair you bloody dolt," Jon smirked at his sister's crude words. "Mother insisted she get there as soon as possible." Jon nodded his head and patted her on the back.

"How about I take her to father and you go get ready before Septa Mordane finds out you are not in your room." Arya's face paled a bit and she nodded her head before sprinting back down the hallway towards to her own room. Nothing like an angry Septa to get the small girl to dump the errand on her brother. Not that he minded, he had been wanting to speak with the Dornish lady and now he had a perfect excuse to. As he wandered towards the lady's room he could feel a slight flush of heat and his palms started to sweat. He tried to steady himself so he would not appear like a foolish child to the exotic woman, but just the thought of her soft black hair and purple eyes sent his mind reeling. He had never felt this way before, but he knew he had to pull himself together.

He came to a stop outside of the lady's door and took a deep breath in and out. He raised his hand and lightly knocked upon the door. A sweet summer voice replied to the noise, "Please come in." Jon pushed the door open and was greeted by the smell of flowers and a light spice he could not place. He could feel the heat from the roaring fireplace from his place at the door and noticed multiple blue and purple dresses lying on the large bed. A slight movement by the window caught his attention and his eyes landed on the purple eyes that ensnared him in the yard. The deep violet pools sparkled at him, beckoning him inside. He shuffled his feet, breaking eye contact to glance down at the floor.

"My father requests your presence in his solar, my lady." Jon heard a slight giggle and could see a small hand enter his vision. He could feel the warmth of her palm as she lifted his chin upwards to meet her eyes.

"I never expected a Northern man to be so shy around a lady," He smiled at her light tone of voice. "Would you give me the pleasure of knowing your name?"

"Jon. Jon Snow." He reached his hand up to lightly grasp her own. "It's lovely to meet you, my lady." Myria snorted at his comment and pulled her hand out of his, walking back to her laid out dresses. She started to pick one up and observe it, turning it to see how it looked in different lights.

"No need for the 'my lady' nonsense. You can call me Myria." Jon nodded his head and walked over to stand next to her. He glanced over her shoulder at the dress she was holding in her hands. It was a deep midnight blue with silver threading on the edges, and off the shoulder sheer sleeves which flowed down to the elbow. It also sported a sweetheart neckline with a soft embroidery of stars. He thought this dress alone would make every man who saw her wear it lose his mind to her beauty.

"That dress would look rather lovely on you." She turned towards him, holding the dress against her body. He could picture her in it perfectly in his mind and shuddered at the vision he was graced with. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded his head. Myria watched his reaction and smiled, laying the dress back on the bed and turning to the door.

"Well I suppose we should head to speak with your father now," Jon walked up to her and let her loop her arm through his before opening the door. "Thank you for the suggestion, I may wear that dress to the feast tonight." Jon nodded his head as they went out the door, but he personally thought no man deserved to witness her in that dress.

Not even himself.

They slowly walked through the keep, heading to the other side where Ned Stark's solar existed across from the great hall. They passed multiple people during their small trip: Bran and Rickon racing through the hall yelling at each other as they went, servants carrying fabric, food, and cases of wine, little Myrcella waving at Myria as she wandered past with her handmaiden, along with Cersei following her daughter while glaring at the Dornish girl as she passed by. Myria smiled at the queen ignoring the heated look she retrieved in return. She pulled Jon's arm slightly closer to her own, almost to shield her from the higher lady's hateful eyes. As she did she noted how Jon's solemn look brighten for a quick moment before returning to its normal state. She wish she knew why the queen despised her so, since she had never in her whole time in King's Landing done a single thing to step on her toes. Myria always tried to be on Cersei's good side, but always seemed to fail. It hurt her a bit internally when she was a little girl to see the grown woman glare at her with such contempt. She would most likely go to her grave guessing as the prideful lioness would never reveal her true feelings to the poor Dayne girl.

The pair turned the corner and entered the great hall, passing through the rows of large wooden tables lined with candles to reach the doorway on the other side of the room. As they were maneuvering through the tables both heard a female voice call out, "Lady Dayne." The two turned to see lady Catelyn Stark quickly heading their way. "Have you seen my daughter, Arya? I asked her to escort you to my husband." Myria toddled her head to indicate 'no'.

"Last I saw of Arya she was heading back to her room, lady Stark." Catelyn sharply looked at her husband's bastard. "She asked me to escort the lady to father so she could finish getting ready with the Septa." Lady Stark quickly tilted her head before turning her attention back to the lady on the bastard's arm.

"Would you want me to escort you the rest of the way, my lady? I am sure the company of my husband's bastard is a tad unrefined for your tastes." Myria heard Jon take in a sharp breath of air and could feel him attempting to remove his arm from her own.

She simply pulled his arm closer and shook her head at the lady of Winterfell. "I am sorry to disappoint my lady, but I am rather content with Jon's company. He was just telling me about how he spends time with his other brother, Robb. I am so happy to hear about two brothers having such a close bond." She quirked her eyebrow, "Do you not agree lady Stark?" She could see the veins in the older woman's head clench as she glanced down at the ground before squeezing out her next quiet words of 'Of course, my lady". After speaking the almost poisonous words she quickly exited the hall to assist her daughters with preparations for the feast.

Jon heard Myria sigh, "Gods I can not stand a woman with so much spite in her soul. She has no reason to hate you so, and since she will not do it herself I apologize for her harsh words ." He was dumbfounded on the fact of this tiny lady apologizing for lady Stark's long seated hatred towards him.

Jon quickly breathed out, "No need for an apology. I am used to this behavior from lady Stark and the others here in Winterfell. I am a bastard after all."

As they passed through the doorway out of the hall the Dornish woman shook her head at Jon's words, "In Dorne there is no shame being a bastard. They are children born from passion and every grain of Sand is special in their own way."

Jon rebutted, "But I heard you grew up in King's Landing, not Dorne."

"Truth to your words, Jon. However I am of Dornish blood and I wholeheartedly agree with their beliefs. Blame the parents if you must, but not the child." The Snow smiled at her strong beliefs, silently agreeing with them. The words dissipated as they drew close to the lord of Winterfell's solar as did their footsteps. "I suppose we have arrived?"

"Yes, my lady." She smiled at the Northern man.

"Myria."

"Yes, Myria." Her smile grew as her name slipped from his lips. She separated her arm from his and gave him a curtsy before knocking on the door. Jon gave her a bow in return before heading back in the direction they both came from. Her eyes followed his body until he was out of her line of sight. She silently waited outside of the door until she heard a soft 'come in' and she creaked open the door. She was met with the picture of Ned Stark sitting behind his large wooden desk along with king Robert sitting across from his friend with an empty chair next to him. Myria dropped into another curtsy with customary mutter of 'Your Grace, my lord' before moving to the empty chair parallel to the king. Robert snuffed as the girl used the polite phrases he heard almost every single second of his waking life. Ned gifted the woman with a small quirk of his lips before returning to his normal solemn look he shared with his black-haired son.

Robert broke the slightly tense silence, "Myria, glad you could make it. Sure you're wondering what exactly is going on." Myria nodded her head at the king, but remained silent. "With you being a ward of the crown I am personally responsible for your well being. I have not forgotten all of the times my damned wife has tried to sell you off to some godforsaken family and I have decided to put a stop to it completely."

Ned spoke up, "What Robert is trying to say is while you lot rode up here queen Cersei had written some letters to my banner man, Roose Bolton. Lord Bolton sent myself a letter concerning the queen's request."

"And what request was that, my lord?" She asked with a tremor of fear in her words.

"Roose said the queen wished to betroth you to his bastard son, Ramsay Snow. He wished to know about you and if the arrangement would be beneficial to his house at all." She froze at the word 'betroth'. She thought the queen cruel before, but if she was trying to send her to the crazed Bolton bastard then she truly wanted her dead. Before she could begin to panic about her situation Ned continued, "I wrote back to him telling how you were already promised to my son by order of the king, making the queen's deal null and void. I then swiftly sent a raven to Robert about the entire situation."

The king spoke up at mention of his name, "When I got the raven I wanted to beat Cersei to death with my own hands. Trying to send you to that crazy boy? Even I have heard about his depraved antics and would not wish that on an innocent lass like yourself. So Ned and I reached a decision, one that would protect you from Cersei once and for all, and it would give the heartless bitch what she wants."

Myria glanced up at the two men who held her fate in their hands. Ned looked upon the young woman who reminded him of his sister when she was younger with a fatherly gaze. "We have agreed to you wedding my son, it will be announced at the feast tonight." Myria breathed a sigh of relief. Robb Stark was as honorable as his father and she was glad to finally be free from the queen's scheming. "You will be wed before the royal family leave Winterfell and when I head south to King's Landing you will remain in Winterfell with your new husband." She nodded her head in agreement, but a cord of confusion struck her.

"Thank you for the honor, but which part of this situation will please the queen? It just seems to me she will be more enraged than ever." Robert scoffed at her words.

"Leave that business to me, just wear your finest tonight and try to enjoy yourself." He grumbled before pouring himself a drink from the pitcher on the desk. "I am sorry that you are getting stuck in the North so far from Starfall, but you will at least be close to the Eerie. Overall you will be far from this wretched game so many of us are trapped in." Robert downed the rest of his goblet, stood up from his seat, and extended his hand to her. She took his hand and stood up from her own seat, curtsied to both the king and to lord Stark before leaving the room.

She rushed back to her own room with all of her thoughts on her new situation on her mind. The king was correct in his observation. She would be far from Starfall, she may never see it in her lifetime. The thought did not concern her much since she would get to spend the rest of her life tucked away in the North. She would be the next lady of Winterfell, married to an honorable man who she could easily be happy with. That though however, seemed to bother her. Would she truly be happy with Robb, or would she long for something else?

Or someone else?


	5. Chapter 5

Soft silver hair floated through the hot breeze followed by the fluttering of eyelids. Daenerys Targaryen inhaled the air tinged with sands and ocean salt as she quietly sat by herself in the gardens of Illyrio Mopatis' manor. She along with her brother, Viserys, had spent the past year under the watchful eye of the Essosi lord, grateful for his charity. The last of the Dragon lords of old had spent their whole lives on the run from the Usurper's swords, always one step ahead, but also two steps behind. The fair haired 16 year old girl remembered a time when they were safe from the cruel man, when Ser Jon Connington had sequestered her pregnant mother and her brother to Braavos before Stannis Baratheon even arrived on Dragonstone. Shortly after landing the harshest storm in all of Essos's history hit the Braavosi shores and her brave mother brought her into the world, while the heavens opened up.

She spent most of her younger years with her brother and mother in Braavos, happily hidden from the world. Ser Connington would visit the three Targaryens; he would bring money when it was needed, but most importantly his stories. Daenerys adored his tales of adventure and romance, especially his memories of her oldest brother, Rhaegar. He would tell her of the gallant Silver Prince, his love for the realm and for his people. Even Viserys would become enthralled by the knight's words, drinking in every one like a man dying of thirst. Life was wonderful for them those first few years, and then it wasn't anymore.

They came in the night, on the eve of her brother's 9th name day. Ser Connington was not swift enough to save her mother from the assassins' blades, but he was able to fight them off of the children. He escaped with them in his arms, taking many wounds to himself in the midst of the fighting. The three stole away on a ship heading for Lys before the attackers could track their footsteps through the sleeping city. Viserys was never the same after that night. He became cold to his sister, sometimes he could not bare to look at the living image of his dearly departed mother. Connington drew closer to Daenerys after the events, silently promising to protect the princess for his lost queen. They spent little time in one place afterwards. Constantly on the move to avoid the Baratheon's anger, and Connington began to teach Viserys how to wield their family's ancestral blade, Blackfyre. While Viserys became equipped with the sword Connington taught Daenerys about politics and the history of the Seven Kingdoms.

By the time Dany reached her 14th name day she was as quick with her tongue as her brother was quick with his sword. Both trained to better their family's position, but Viserys could not shake his feeling of contempt for his sister. Multiple times during their travels he had tried to leave the girl on the doorsteps of brothels, but each time Ser Connington would find him and beat him within an inch of his life. The knight insisted she was to be his queen, but Viserys knew in his heart he could never love Dany like that.

He could not love her at all. She knew he blamed her for their mother's death. It was Rhaella who jumped in front of her daughter, taking a knife to her heart in the process. Dany understood her brother's grief, but even she knew it was placed on the wrong person.

"Princess, your brother asked me to fetch you and bring you to the main hall," She turned her head to see Ser Connington walking towards her. "I am sorry to interrupt your personal time, your Highness."

"Please, Jon. There's no need for such formal language when it is just us. Calling me Dany is perfectly fine."

He nodded his head the the small Valyrian girl. He watched as she stood from the marble bench and raised her hand out towards him. He lightly grasped it and began to lead her into the manor towards the hall her older brother and lord Mopatis were waiting. As they were walking her light blue silk dress floated through the breeze, appearing like a wave upon the shore. Her pale hair fluttered around her head like a cloud moving through the air. Sometimes he would pretend the female on his arm was not the daughter, but the mother. He could almost imagine himself and the fair-haired queen strolling through the gardens of the Red Keep, laughing at each others wit and regaling adventurous tales. Whispering quiet proclamations of affection before she was forced back to the king. He snapped his mind out of his past, there was no way to reclaim his dreams as they were long dead with the sweet queen herself.

"Do you know what my brother wishes to see me about?" Her light purple eyes flashed with slight worry.

Jon sighed at the girl, "Most likely marriage I am afraid. Against my own advice he wishes to sail to Westeros now to reclaim your family's throne. He will most likely use you as a bartering chip for ships or soldiers." Dany sadly tilted her head down. She knew her brother would use any pawns he had to win his game, including her.

The pair quickly reached the hall and noticed the other Targaryen pacing near the front to the grand table. Lord Illyrio stood nearby the younger man, watching his movement with calculating eyes. The Essosi male was a man graying at the edges, wrinkles painted over the parts of his face not covered in his light grey beard. His rich blood red robes masking his frailing body with an appearance of might and power. Connington only saw the man as a snake, someone who wanted what he took take from the silver haired siblings before leaving them in the dust. Sadly, Viserys now trusted the ailing man more than the knight who had protected him his whole life.

"Ah, Dany. My dear sister finally come out of her garden hideaway." Daenerys walked up to her brother and allowed him to pull her into a light hug.

"Is there a reason you needed me, Viserys? You do not normally ask for my assistance." The Valyrian man nodded his head and led her towards the large window set facing the sea.

The self-proclaimed king looked down through the window with a smirk on his face, "I have decided to marry you to a Dothraki Khal, to secure an army so we may head home." Connington stiffened at the sentence, the Dothraki were well known for their savagery. They had always spent their time raiding the towns around the larger city-states of Essos. He could not believe his king would sell the sweet princess to such ruffians, but as he noticed the cunning smile on the Magistrate's face he knew it was Illyrio pulling the strings.

He personally knew a deal like this one would promise years of protection for Pentos, with no fear of other hordes sacking their city. This deal would not benefit the Targaryens though as the Dothraki would never cross the Narrow Sea, or as they called it the Poisonous Sea. Any water their horses could not consume was water they never touched, for no animal would choose to drink poisonous water in their minds.

"My king," Viserys turned to the knight. "I am sure you are aware the Dothraki will never cross the Narrow Sea, they do not trust the salt water." Viserys laughed at the man's words.

"Illyrio here has assured me I will only need enough ships to sail both the men and the horses, which will not be an issue for myself." Jon shot a dirty look at the older man, which he only received a smug smile of victory in return.

Daenerys looked between her brother and Ser Jon, "When will the wedding take place?"

Illyrio spoke up, "First the great Khal Drogo must approve of you, my lady. In a weeks time her will arrive to inspect his future bride." Connington scoffed at the condescending words. He and his princess both knew she was being treated like a damned cow being sold at a market. The Khal had not even agreed to the marriage yet, he wanted to inspect his princess like she was a prime cut of meat.

"You will spend the week preparing yourself, dear sister. I want you to be in perfect condition for when the Khal arrives." The quiet girl bowed her head at her brother before excusing herself from the room. The knight took in a deep breath of air before looking to his king.

"Your Grace, may I have a word with you in private?" The Valyrian nodded his head and waved the Essosi lord out of the room. Once they were the only two left in the room, Connington strode up to the boy he had raised over the past 16 years. The said boy jumped at the knight's quick reproach and gave off a shudder of fear. He attempted to straighten his shoulders, but it did little to hide his own fear of the stronger man. "I am disgusted that you would sell your little sister like a animal in the market. She is a Targaryen and deserves more respect."

Viserys laughed, "You have no right to be disgusted, Connington. While you may have saved myself and my sister all those years ago, I know where you true loyalties lie." He leaned in to whisper in Jon's ear his breath boiling to match his silent rage. "I am doing her a favor, if she would have remained in your care any longer, I fear she might be forever tainted by your urges."

The knight clenched his fists at the younger man's vile words. How dare Viserys claim he would treat the young girl with anything but respect?! She was a daughter to the older man, and nothing would change that for him. But for his king, someone he had put his own life on the line for, to assume _HE _of all people would attempt to defile the princess….

"How dare you! I would never-"

"You would be wise not to wake the dragon, Ser." Viserys took a step away from him. "I hope you learn soon where your loyalties should lie. Backing my weak sister will only waste your own time." The silver haired boy wandered out of the room, leaving the knight to his thoughts. He wanted to strangle the whelp with his own hands for daring to imply he would even think of harming Daenerys in that way. He never thought Viserys would have a shred in common with his mad father, growing up he had been sweet and considerate to everyone around him.

No, that was not fully true. He had always been sharp to Dany, but he had never pieced it together until now. His father's madness had manifested into a form of hatred towards the younger Targaryen child, and now he had the power to take it out on her fully. He was gaining allies and power and he personally chose to sell his sister to a Dothraki horde instead of a rich merchant.

Jon walked his way into the west wing of the manor where the Targaryen's bedrooms were situated. He came up to an ornate iron door designed with ivy and flowers, stopping in front of it. He could hear the small sniffles of the heart broken girl inside. He knocked on the door and heard a stuttered 'Come in'. He slowly pushed the door open to be greeted with the princess's large bedchamber. It was finely decorated with silks of bright colors on the walls, a large vanity full of oils and balms placed against the far wall, her large bed made of mahogany wood with cream satin sheets, and the large balcony with white curtains where he found the small heiress leaning against the stone railing. The knight stepped behind the girl as she tried to quiet her weeping, and she turned towards the only father figure she had even had. Jon opened up his arms and she ran into his embrace, beginning to sob on his shoulder as he stroked her hair.

"There, there sweet dragon. All will be well. Dry your tears," Her crying slowed as she glanced up at him. "There see? A beautiful gem like you should cry over your brother's words."

"But Viserys wants to send me away. I'll never see you again." She started to sob hysterically again, but Jon shushed her wails.

"Dany, wherever you go I will go. No matter what you brother says."

"But he's your king. You must do what he wants."

Ser Connington shook his head, "The moment he sold you out to some Dothraki savage is when he lost my allegiances." they pulled away from each other as Daenerys smiled up at him. "You however I would follow all the way into the Seven Hells."

Daenerys watched as the knight took out his sword, laying it by her feet, and kneeling in front of her. He lowered his head towards the Targaryen princess. "I am your sworn sword. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours, if need be. I swear it by the Old gods and the New."

The princess smiled through her tears and tilted her head to her knight, "And I vow that you shall always have a place at my hearth and meat and mead at my table, and pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you to dishonor." She swallowed the small lump in her throat and continued.

"I swear by the Old gods and the New."


	6. Chapter 6

Myria glanced her head up from the book she was invested in when a knock sounded on her chamber door. She muttered a quick polite 'Please, come in' before going back to the chapter she was browsing through before the sound interrupted her. She listened as her door creaked open and shut quietly. Light shuffling feet came closer to her bedside before stopping a few feet from her. She peered up at the person who was waiting by her bed seeing a handmaid standing with her arms clasped together in front of her, her head down facing the floor. Myria gave the woman a small smile, closed her book, and climbed off of the bed.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, it is quite a riveting book." The handmaid nodded her head at the lady and began to putter around, straightening out the things placed around the room. "I am sorry to ask, but why you are here in my room?"

The other woman quietly replied, "The lady Stark sent me to prepare you for the feast tonight."

"May I have your name?" She smiled at the quiet woman.

"My name is Willow, m'lady. May I say that you are quite beautiful." Myria blushed at the sweet comment.

She walked over to the wardrobe where the dress Jon commented on earlier was sitting on the open door, midnight blue velvet flats sitting on the floor below the dress. As she lifted the dress off of the door she spoke to Willow, "Thank you for the compliment, and I am in need of some help with my dress and hair. If you don't mind?" Willow walked over to the lady taking the dress from her hands nodding her head at the question. The two women spent the next hour styling hair, tying laces, and whispering joyful comments. Willow was adding the final touch to Myria's hair while she listened to her lady beguile her with tales of her childhood. The small brunette smiled at the sparkle in her purple eyes as she spoke of a time her and her cousin hid in the passageways under the Red Keep.

"Aunt Lysa was positively fuming when the guards brought us back. She tried to forbid me from even speaking to little Robin, but he was so happy that he got to see the dragon skulls. It was one of the happiest moments I had in the King's Landing, Robin's like a little brother to me." Willow set down the extra hairpins and picked up the star shaped necklace sitting on the vanity, placing it delicately on her tan neck and latching the clasp at the back. She stepped away and let Myria observe her appearance in the floor length mirror.

Myria definitely agreed with Jon's opinion. The dress fit her like a glove, the velvet smooth on her skin. She traced her fingers over the embroidery on the neckline, fingers fluttering over her bosom as she went. The cut was a bit revealing, but still appropriate keeping her modest and alluring at the same time. She watched as the waterfall like sleeves floated around her arms stopping slightly below her elbows. Willow had styled her hair perfectly: half of her ink colored hair pinned up in a rose like bun, and the other half left flowing down her back. Her necklace nestled on her between her collarbones comfortably. She had never felt more beautiful in her whole life, she was truly happy. She would get to stay in the North, safe and married. She could grow old with someone else instead of being locked away in a room in King's Landing.

She wandered back to the wardrobe and slipped on her flats to complete her look. She listened as Willow came up behind her, "Oh m'lady, you are a vision. Simply lovely."

"Thank you very much, Willow. Your help has been amazing." The handmaid blushed and smiled at the lady. "I suppose we should head down to the feast now, I am sure we have spent enough time hidden away already." She was not wrong in her observation, night had fallen on Winterfell not long ago and both of the women could hear the sounds of music and people making its way from the Great Hall. The two looped their arms together and left the room, taking the same halls Myria and Jon wandered through a few hours earlier. They walked as gracefully as possible while still rushing their way to the party going on ahead of them.

When they entered the whole of Winterfell was in merriment and full swing. A group of minstrels were performing in the corner, the light sound of the lute and a rendition of "Bear and the Maiden Fair" wafted through the room. Though sadly the soulful singing was drowned out by the sounds of the roaring fireplace, the clanging of goblets and plates, the stomping of dancing feet, and the din of countless voices. The long wooden tables were now filled to the brim with countless plates of food ranging from steaming meats to fresh baked pastries. The Baratheon Stag and the Stark Dire wolf banner hung all over the walls, covering the room in shades of black, yellow, and grey. The royal family along with the lady and lord of Winterfell were sat on the high table in the front of the hall. The queen dressed to the nines with her golden hair wrapped up in Southern braids, and Catelyn Stark sat next to her dressed in simpler Northern clothes with her red hair let down. Both women were whispering to the other likely passing pleasantries. Myria was annoyed to see the king wrapped up in a serving maid's arms, displaying his infidelity for all to see.

Willow let go of her arm and Myria lost her in the sea of people, but a voice called out to her while she was searching for her new friend, "Lady Dayne! Please come sit with me, you look gorgeous." She looked to see Sansa Stark dressed in a blue and grey Northern styled dress sitting with one of her friends who sported the same look. She quickly walked over to the pair of girls before she got swept up in the festivities around her. She took the seat on Sansa left and the two girls widened their smiles at the woman.

"Where did you get that dress?" The other girl asked. "Did someone make it for you in the South?" Myria shook her head at the girl's naive questions.

She poured herself a drink before replying, "Actually, I sewed this dress while we were traveling up here. Every time we stopped I would start to sew another part." The girls were shocked at her words and Sansa cried out a yell of delight.

"Oh you must make my wedding dress for me! I am going to marry the crown prince and you must be a master at the needle to make this beauty in such little time."

The Dornish woman choked on her drink, "The Prince!? You are going to marry Joffrey?" Sansa nodded her head with an aura of pride around her. Oh, the poor girl had no idea what mess she was throwing herself into. Before she could warn the girl from her childish fantasies she heard a loud plop and noticed a chunk of porridge hanging off of Sansa's dress. Sansa began to shriek while a laugh rang from the other edge of the table. Myria glanced down to see Arya holding a spoon while trying not to fall out of her seat due to her incessant laughter.

"Arya! She always spoils _everything_!" Sansa's friend began to help her clean up her dress and Myria got up from her seat heading towards Arya. She came up behind the girl and placed her hands on her shoulders, leaning to whisper 'Good shot'. Arya looked up in surprise, but gave the purple eyed-girl a wide mouth smile. She stepped away when she saw Robb approach his little sister, swooping her up in his arms.

"Alright, time for bed." Arya grumbled at her brother, begging to stay longer.

"Perhaps I can escort her out Robb," He made eye contact with Myria. "I am sure you do not want to leave the festivities?" He remained frozen for a second by her appearance before Arya's squirming kicked him in the back.

"I would not want to impose, my lady. She is my sister." She smiled at his polite voice.

"Please, call me Myria. And the heat in here is positively suffocating me." Robb nodded his head at her and he let his sister down from his arms. Arya followed the woman as she turned and walked out of the Hall. Once they were outside she smiled at Arya, "Go on, no need to go to bed. Just do not get caught again." The wolf girl giggled at her before running off into the depths of the keep. Myria then wandered through the keep to reach the training yard, wanting to catch her breath in the cold air.

She reached the balcony that overlooked the yard and heard the tell tale sounds of steel crashing against wood. She peered over the railing to catch a glance at the late night practice to see Jon wielding a sword while dressed in a black tunic with a deep brown leather doublet worn over it. His hair soaked with sweat as he took out his frustrations on the dummy in the yard. He stopped and took a breath as the dummy fell over from his hacking, and she heard a voice ring out in the air, "Is he dead yet?" She followed the voice to see a man with black hair speckled with grey, wearing completely black attire jumping from a horse. She watched as Jon turned to face the man and his face brightened.

"Uncle Benjen!" He walked over to his uncle and threw his arms around him.

The two men laughed, "Ah, you've got bigger. I rode all day, didn't want to leave you alone with the Lannisters." He looked at his nephew. "Why aren't you at the feast?"

Jon sighed and looked at his feet, "Father asked me to attend, but when I was heading inside lady Stark thought it might insult the royal family to seat a bastard in their midst." Benjen nodded his head in disappointment. His sister-in-law had always been harsh on the poor boy.

"Well you're always welcomed on the Wall. No bastard was ever refused a seat there."

"So take me with you when you go back."

Myria's throat clenched at Jon's words. He felt so abandoned in his own home that he would willingly give his whole life away to the Night's Watch. Did he not know that many people on the Wall now were criminals and scoundrels?

Benjen shook his head at him, "Jon-"

Jon cut him off, "Father will let me if you ask him. I know he will"

Benjen looked at his nephew's determined face, "The Wall isn't going anywhere."

"I am ready to swear your oath." Benjen sighed once more glancing around and noticed a woman on the ramparts observing their conversation with a mournful look in her eye.

"You don't understand what you'd be giving up. We have no families, none of us will ever father sons-"

"I don't care about that." Benjen looked at the woman again and saw how she held her breath at Jon's words.

"Right, if you knew what it meant. Who you could be giving up in your choice." He watched his nephew's eyebrow furrow at his words. The lad had no idea there even was a someone. "Right, I better get inside and save your father from his guests." He grasped Jon's shoulder, "We'll talk later." He then strode into the keep, leaving Jon on his own in the yard with Myria looking over him.

"Your uncle's in the Night's Watch." She glanced to the new voice to see her friend Tyrion, likely returning from a brothel. Jon quirked his eyebrow at the dwarfish lord.

"What are you doing back there?" Tyrion walked forward, opening a flask and taking a swig of it.

"Preparing for a night with your family." He leaned against a wall, "I've always wanted to see the Wall."

Jon nodded at the man, "You're Tyrion Lannister, the queen's brother?" Tyrion nodded his head at the question.

"My greatest accomplishment. And you," He gestured to Jon. "You're Ned Stark's bastard aren't you?" Jon's face turned cold and he walked back over to the dummy he had torn to shreds earlier. "Did I offend you? Sorry." Jon picked up his sword while glancing back at the smaller man. "You are the bastard though."

"Lord Eddard Stark is my father."

"And lady Stark is not your mother, making you a bastard." Jon grimaced at her friend while he pointed out the part of Jon he was most ashamed of, himself. "Let me give you some advice bastard, never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you." With those words Tyrion turned and started to walk to the doors of the keep.

"And what the _hell_ do you know about being a bastard?" Jon's voice thick with emotion as he called out to the other man.

Tyrion gave him a deadpan look, "All dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes." He then quickly went into the keep to find himself another drink. Jon sighed and went back to his dummy starting to swing at the demolished piece some more. While he was attacking the inanimate object, Myria made her way down the stairs as quietly as possible. She walked up behind the man as he continued to take out his frustrations on the dummy and softly called out to him.

"You were right Jon, it does look lovely on me."

Jon quickly spun around and was hit with the vision he had earlier that day. Myria was ethereal in her dress and the necklace sitting perfectly upon her collar beckoned him into her silent spell. He took a deep breath and she smiled at his dumbfounded facial expression. She walked up to him and closed his jaw, "Cat got your tongue?" He smirked at her joking voice.

"You are a vision, Myria. I'm sure many other men have already told you so tonight." He watched as she shook her head and walked closer to him.

"No, if I am being honest the only people who talked to me were your sisters and your brother, Robb." Jon raised his eyebrows, he was certain every man would throw themselves at her feet. Or at least Theon. "I was wondering if you wanted to share a dance with me Jon."

"A dance? Inside?" she nodded her head. "Lady Stark would not approve Myria, I'm sorry." She grabbed his hand before he could walk away from her.

"Jon, for once in your life can you do what you wish to do. Not what others expect. You deserve some fun, not to wallow in the bloody corner." He looked at his feet as he let her words sink in. He had always stayed on the sidelines of his own life, letting others influence him.

He wrapped her hand with both of his, "Alright, nothing would make me happier than to share a dance with you." Her smiled sparkled as she began to lead him into the keep. They both leisurely walked through the halls enjoying the pleasant silence before it made way for the boisterous clamor of the feast. They both came through the doorway as the older Stark brothers, Ned and Benjen, clasped their hands before muttering together 'Winter is coming'. Benjen walked out of the hall, passing the young couple and smiling at them as he went. Ned caught eye of the pair and also made his way over.

"Jon, I am happy you finally showed up. What took you so long?" Jon stiffened a bit, not wanting to reveal what lady Catelyn had said to him earlier.

Myria quickly covered up his silence, "I believe that was my fault, my lord. We have spent most of the evening outside talking." Ned nodded at her words with a small smile on his face.

"Well it's a good thing you both are here now. Robert has been asking for the two of you for the past few minutes." The pair looked at lord Stark with confused looks. Why was the king looking for both of them?

"Ah Ned! You found them!" The small group looked over to the front of the Hall as the King yelled from where he was standing in front of the head table. He stumbled a bit due to his large consumption of alcohol and his face was a cherry red. The queen still sat behind the table, but now glared at her husband as he swayed on his own feet. "I have an announcement to make, so everyone quiet down!" The Hall became more tame as the king's thunderous voice called out. "First of all my son, Prince Joffrey Baratheon," He motioned to the boy as he stood up. "will marry lady Sansa Stark when they both come of age." Sansa stood up as the crowd broke into applause for the new couple. She blushed while the Prince waved at the people cheering for him. "Alright sit down you two." The pair sat back into their seats before Robert continued. "I have more great news! Lady Dayne, Snow, come up here you two." Both of the young adults froze at the king's words, but began to make their way to the front together. When they were in front of the king he grasped Jon's shoulder and pulled him in front of the crowd.

"By royal decree I name this man Jon Stark. He will no longer be a bastard, but a lord in his own right." The crowd cheered for the young man most had grown up with, but Jon could feel his blood turn to ice. He had always wanted to be a Stark, and now he was one. But he could feel lady Stark's murderous gaze upon his back and he was fearful to turn around. The king patted him on the back before reaching his hand out to Myria. She grasped his hand and let him pull her forwards as well to stand next to the new Stark.

"Now that you are a lord, you'll need a proper wife." He gestured to the Dornish woman. "I have spoken with lord Eddard Stark and he and I have agreed to marry lady Myria Dayne and lord Jon Stark in a weeks time." With those words the hall was silent before Robb began to cheer and clap for his brother. Afterwards the crowd erupted into a storm of sound, and Jon thought he would go deaf with the noise. Robb and Theon came up and hugged him tightly while Sansa rushed to Myria, happy to have a new sister.

Jon felt nauseous from all the news, but as he made eye contact with his new fiance he felt everything would work out.


	7. Chapter 7

Bran patted Summer on the head as he wandered through the Godswood. He had never been a fan of the forest, but it was the only quiet place left within the gates of Winterfell. Everyone had spent the past few days since the feast rushing like a cluck of chickens. He did not know why nor did he care, he just wanted to play with someone. Arya was always teasing him about how bad he was at archery so she was off of the list, Sansa was boring and too ladylike, and both of his older brothers were too busy. Rickon was an option, but he did not want to be stuck watching the tiny 6 year old. So he was alone in his playing, besides Summer. He was playful around his puppy siblings, but was quiet around other humans. Except Bran, he always had time to spend with Bran.

The small boy jumped at a creaking wind rushing through the trees. His father said the Godswood was a holy place, but Bran just got the creeps from the whole area. He always felt like someone was watching him and it scared him a little, but he would never admit that. Arya would never let him live it down if he did. Bran continued onward and came upon the large Weirwood tree in the middle of the forest.

"Hello Bran, pleasant to see you here." Bran jumped at the sudden voice and looked to where it was coming from. He saw the girl his brother was going to marry. Mia? No, Myria. She was sitting by the imposing white tree, red leaves fluttering around her small form as she glanced at the boy.

"What are you doing in here? Father says it's only for Northerners." She smiled at the small boy's question. The Godswood was normally only for those who prayed to the Old Gods, and Myria was born under the light of the Seven. She beckoned him over with a wave of her hand and he along with Summer walked up next to her. The dire wolf pup sat between the two humans content with his position.

Myria looked away from Bran once he was situated and back to the tree she had come to see. The Weirwood of Winterfell was said to be thousands of years old, with legends of it going back to the Long Night all those years ago. "I wanted to see the Godswood, since I am to be married here tomorrow."

"But you're from the South, why not get married in a Sept?" Bran tilted his head at the older female.

"I am from the South, but my husband-to-be is from the North. Also I hate all of the pomp that is necessary in the Faith of the Seven. Much simpler to just pray in front of a tree."

Bran sat down next to her, "It bothers me sometimes. The face, like it wants to talk to me." Myria looked at the face carved into the trunk of the Weirwood, Bran was correct. The face gave off an ominous feeling to her, and she felt like she was imposing on something sacred. The tree somehow knew she was an outsider and wanted her to know as well. "I tried to tell father, but I don't think he listened to me."

Myria's heart clenched at the sorrowful tone, "I am sure he did listen, Bran. They are his Gods though and he wants to protect you, but not insult them." Bran gave a small nod to her words. "How about, the next time would get scared in here you can come tell me."

His eyes shot up, "I'm not scared!"

"Of course you're not. I am sorry I worded that wrong. If the trees _worry_ you again you can come tell me." She slowly stood up and held her hand out for the boy. "The trees 'worry' me too. It feels like they do not want me here." Bran carefully grasped her hand and motioned for Summer to follow them as they both began to walk away from the Weirwood, its eyes following their movements.

"I guess you will belong here. Father says that mother belongs because she married him, so maybe you have to wait until you marry Jon." She grinned at his innocent logic. Myria herself had seen how lady Catelyn avoided the Godswood like a plague. She had been in the North for almost two decades and the forest still rejected her. She wondered if the trees would always refuse her as well.

"So why did you come here by yourself anyway?"

"I have no one to play with," Summer nudged his leg. "Except Summer here."

An idea popped into Myria's mind and once they exited the Godswood she began to lead the Stark boy towards the Winterfell library. As they passed through the training yard they were met with the sound of hard hits against bodies and grunts from the tilly area. They both glanced over and were greeted with the sight of Robb swinging a sword towards the Prince. Joffrey attempted to parry the swings the Heir of Winterfell attacked him with, but his training with a sword was poor at best. He had the whole of the Kingsguard to train him with a sword growing up, but he never wished to truly learn. He instead focused on his precious crossbow, a coward's weapon in Myria's mind. It took no true skill to wield one unlike a sword. Truly mastering the blade is a skill very few people accomplished, and a foolish brat like Joffrey will never have the patience or the honor to learn the ancient secrets.

Robb continued to go on the offense until Joffrey had fallen to the ground, his own wooden sword clanging to the hard dirt. The other watchers began to applaud for the auburn man as he reached his hand out to the golden haired boy to help him up. The snobby prince slapped Robb's hand away and got up on his own. He dusted off his body and grabbed his fake blade from the ground. Winterfell's master-at-arms, Ser Rodrik Cassel, retrieved the swords from the two noble males, before passing them over to the next opponents.

The female and child pair clapped as Rodrik's son, Jory, stepped forward along with Jon. The two took their stances and began to spar, Jory striking first. Jon deftly dodged the strike, turning to swing at Jory's undefended right side, quickly hitting him near the hip. Jory stumbled back, but found his footing before raising his sword to parry Jon's next attack. The two went back and forth switching between offensive and defensive until Jon swept his sword into Jory's thigh knocking him off of his feet. The older man attempted to get back onto his feet, but was met with Jon's blade in front of his face. He glared up at the younger man before he and Jon broke into laughter. Jon pulled away and helped his friend up to his feet. The two shook hands while the onlookers once again applauded.

Jon and Robb heard cheering and looked over to see Bran hollering next to Myria. The brothers smiled while waving at their little brother and Jon's fiance watching as both of them walked over. "Well what are you two doing out here? Isn't fighting a bit much for you, my lady?" Myria raised her eyebrow at Robb's question. Bran looked between his brother and Myria before speaking up.

"Myria wanted to take me and Summer to the library for something and we saw the fighting going on." Jon nodded at his brother absently while he watched his new fiance's face contort with annoyance and slight rage at Robb's comment before turning into a strong smugness.

"I'm sorry Robb, but your fighting was barely enough to satisfy me. Jon's fight at least had complex movement, you barely lifted a finger against the Prince. As much as you feel you should not harm royalty, you should never pull your moves." Robb's jaw dropped at his soon to be sister-in-law's observations. He seemed surprised she noticed him holding back at all.

"Well you are correct, if I want a real fight perhaps I should ask Jon for one."

Myria smirked, "Or you could ask me." Both of the older brothers raised their eyebrows at her offer.

"My lady, I believe that would not be a fare fight, you are….not properly dressed." He gestured to her pale orange dress. She also glanced down as well before looking back at Robb.

She walked towards Ser Rodrik and held out her hand for one of the wooden swords. The man hesitated, but passed one of them over to the small lady. She walked back over to the men and smirked at Robb, offering the fake weapon to the auburn man. He accepted it and watched as she returned to Cassel to grab the other blade. Her actions caught the attention of the people in the yard, especially Prince Joffrey. He grimaced at the Dayne girl as she and Robb prepped for the spar. The two faced each other, raised their swords, and Rodrik announced the start of the fight. Robb and Myria circled each other until Robb attempted to disarm the woman to quickly end the fight. As he swung his sword towards her right arm she swiftly twisted her body while simultaneously kicking her right leg into the side of his knee. His leg buckled and he fell to the ground. Myria then rushed behind him, pulled his hair back, and held the wooden sword against his throat. The yard was a quiet as a crypt as they watched the whole ordeal take place in the span of a few seconds, if anyone looked away they would have missed the whole altercation.

Myria giggled while Robb exhaled a deep breath. She released the man and he clambered to his feet, moving to shake her hand. The people in the yard also clapped for their fight, but less than the past two. The only clapping that remained the same were Jon's and Bran's. Suddenly applause from above caused both opponents to shoot their eyes up seeing lord Stark and Arya smiling at the pair.

"That was fantastic!" Arya yelled while furiously clapping her hands together.

Her father nodded his head at his daughter's yelling, "Quite well, lady Myria. I must admit, it's not a fighting style I recognize."

She shrugged her shoulders, "A mixture of the classic Westerosi style along with Braavosi water dancing. Makes it easier for my size." She felt someone come up behind her and jumped a bit as small arms wrapped their way around her waist. Bran jumped up and down while remaining latched to the caught off guard woman.

"That was so cool!" She smiled at him and patted his head. Jon walked up to her and Robb, clasping his brother's shoulder with a smile on his face. Robb wrapped his arm around Jon and they both patted each other's back. Jon then peered at Myria and they both shared sly smiles.

The small bonding moment was cut short when the Prince opened his mouth. "She won because she cheated, using some stupid foreign move." He turned to the master-at-arms. "Ser Cassel, I tire of play swords, I wish for live steel."

"Absolutely out of the question, your highness. Far too dangerous." The boy glared at the man.

"I believe I can decide what is dangerous or not, Ser." He spat the knighthood title like it was a curse to the man's name."

Lord Stark spoke up to diffuse the situation, "It is my home, but your father, the King, is the one who asked for no live steel." With those words out in the air Joffrey scoffed before storming away. Most likely headed to his mother to cry about his misfortune. The Starks and the Dayne in the yard relaxed at his leave, breathing small sighs of relief. Lord Stark tilted his head at the group on the ground before leading Arya away. Robb waved at his father and smirked at his brother's fiance.

"I am quite impressed at your fighting, I am sorry I underestimated you."

"It's fine Robb. Most people do."

Jon looked between the two, "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"Ser Jaime and my water dancing teacher, Syrio Forel."

Robb darkened at the Lannister's name, but Jon did not care in the slightest. Myria almost stumbled a tad at the dead weight still wrapped around her legs and waist. She rubbed Bran's hair and he began to untangle himself from her body. Once they were fully separated Jon carefully grasped Myria's hand. She watched as he brought her delicate limb to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it. She beamed at his romantic action, a light blush dusting her cheeks. He let her hand fall back to her side and they both enjoyed the feeling of slight bliss until Robb started to pull Jon away from his intended, wandering to another area of the yard.

She shook herself out of the mess of feelings, claimed Bran's hand, and continued to guide him to the library. Bran grumbled at her for taking him away from the excitement, but she whispered a promise of a friend. He instantly brightened at her statement, rubbing Summer's fur as they headed towards their destination.

Myria slowly creaked open the library door, attempting to keep the quiet inside intact. The smell of books and light dust wafting through her nose, the sound of turning pages floating into her ears. She pulled Bran to a small tucked away corner by a large window where a small blonde child sat in a large cushioned chair. At the sound of footsteps the child looked up from his book and a grin broke out on his face when he saw My walking towards him with a boy around his older sister's age. He also noticed the small dog-like creature standing by the boy's side.

"My, I so happy to see you. Mother has been keeping me and Cella busy since we got here." He clambered up from the large seat and practically skipped over to his older friend. "Who's that?" He asked while pointing to the dark haired boy with the animal.

Myria lightly pushed Bran in front of her, "Tommen this is my soon-to-be brother, Bran Stark. Bran this is my long time friend Tommen Baratheon." Bran waved a hand at the small prince while Tommen's grin got even bigger.

"It's nice to meet you Bran, do you know I found a book with all these amazing Northern legends." Bran shuffled over to Tommen as he picked up the book he had been reading before company came in. "There are all these stories about the White Walkers and other things beyond the Wall." Bran glanced at the book and shuddered at the drawing of a blueish skeletal figure upon a dead horse etched onto the page. Tommen continued to ramble as he led the older boy back to his corner so they could both enjoy the stories together. Summer lumbered over to the chair the Prince had been existing in earlier and plopped his body down beside it. Myria lips slowly tugged up as she watched the two lonely boys bond over something as simple as a book. She slowly turned and started to leave the library, shutting the boys inside the cozy hideaway.

She stepped outside of the Keep and debated where to head next when she noticed Ser Jaime approaching her with a smug smile on his face. She sighed, "What have you done this time Jaime?"

The knight scoffed at her words, "What do you mean? I am the perfect example of a true chivalrous knight in shining armor." He laughed, but stifled it at the Dornish woman's icy gaze. He wondered how a Southern woman could carry such a Northern gaze. "Alright," He relented. "I admit I have been pestering your betrothed, he is so easy to piss off." Myria clenched her teeth at her friend's words. It honestly did not surprise her in the least that Jaime had been taunting Jon, but it was not necessary. He treated her like a little sister at times and now that she would be leaving him he was lashing out at the one he blamed.

"Promise me you will not bother Jon again." Jaime scoffed, but tilted his head in agreement. She let out a breath of relief at his silent agreement. "Now I have to go check on my 'betrothed' as you call him." The Lannister stepped aside so she could begin her walk to the bastard turned Stark. He watched as she left her orange dress a strange image in the snowy landscape. He wished he had a way to make up for all his family did to her, but he knew she had never thought they did her any wrong. At least everyone, but Cersei. He despised his sister for her actions toward Myria. At least he knew she would be taken care of now, even he could tell the moody Stark cared for her in some sense. As he thought on his own personal issue and guilt an idea dawned on him. He needed to see Winterfell's Maester immediately.


	8. Chapter 8

_Soft eyes flitted across the page as they followed the rushed scratching of a quill. In the background light wailing could be heard. The quill was quickly lowered before the screeching of a chair echoed in the room as the female figure stood and strode over to a wooden bassinet in the corner of the room. Glancing inside the cradle the woman caught her own eyes on a small baby with light lilac eyes overflowing with tears. She carefully picked up the child and began to rock the sweet infant in her arms. As she was calming the child a man entered the solar with soft footsteps. The man crossed the room and embraced both the woman and the child._

"_My love, where have you been?"_

_The woman could feel the man smirking into her hair, "Busy, I'm sorry I have been gone all day." She pulled away and placed a soft kiss on his lips. "I am happy to be back. How's the baby?"_

"_Torrhen's a bit fussy, but he is very happy to see you."_

A female voice brought Myria out of her deep sleep, "M'lady, it's time to get up." She blinked open her eyes and stretched in her bed as Willow opened her curtains. "It's a big day for you." She nodded her head while rolling out of her bed, placing her warm feet on the cool stone of the floor. Myria wanted to close her eyes and slip back into her pleasant dream, but she found the details of said dream slowly leaving her mind as she fully woke up. Willow poured a pitcher of water into a small bowl on her vanity while placing a towel next to it. She shuffled through the small jewelry box as Myria got up from her bed and lazily moved to wash her face. She splashed the warm water onto her face while letting Willow's words float through her mind.

She once thought she would never marry, but she was young then. She had wished to be a warrior like the Dornish Queen, Nymeria. She even had Ser Jaime and Syrio begin to teach her sword play, hoping to one day wield her own family's ancestral blade. It was a foolish thought on her part. Only one Dayne woman had become a Sword of the Morning and it was during the Age of Heroes thousands of years ago when her family members were still the Kings of the Torentine. Myria had never even seen Dawn, at least not that she could remember.

"Are you excited m'lady?"

"Willow, I told you to call me Myria." The handmaiden blushed at her Lady's words.

"Alright, are you excited Myria?"

"Quite excited, but I am still slightly worried. I think most women are." She walked over to the small circular table by her window, grabbing an apple from the bowl in the middle as she sat down in the chair next to it. "I never thought I would end up marrying an honorable man."

"The Starks are quite well known for their honor indeed, but their hearts as well." With Willow's subtle words of comfort she finished her breakfast and let the handmaiden place a soft purple dress over her shift, give her a pair of satin flats, and lightly run a brush through her hair before tying it into a quick bun. Then the two linked arms and exited her room, heading to Lady Stark's chambers to prep her for the ceremony coming up. Once they reached the room Willow knocked softly on the door and waited for it to open. The door creaked open and a wave of red hair swarmed out as Sansa dragged the pair inside giggling like the small child she was.

"Oh Myria, your dress is so beautiful! And mother and I completed the finishing touches last night, I adore your house color. Purple is so lovely, unlike boring grey." Myria thought the girl's enthusiasm was adorable and as she stepped into the room she saw the work her and Lady Catelyn had put into the dress. It was hanging on the wardrobe like a pure white silk waterfall lined on the inside with velvet. Purple stars and silver dire wolves embroidered at the high collared neckline, hem, and long sleeves. She was impressed with the added details the younger girl and her mother sewed onto it, since she and Lady Stark only finished the basic design of the dress on their own.

"Oh it is wonderful thank you Sansa, Lady Stark." The older woman smiled, but shook her head.

"You can call me Catelyn, Myria," She walked over and picked up the dress heading back to the bride. "You will be apart of the family in a few hours." The Dornish woman smiled, took the dress from Catelyn, and tilted her head in agreement. Willow and Myria began to unlace the dress to place it onto her while Sansa fluttered around her mother's vanity trying to piece together the perfect jewelry. As the women helped prepare Myria, Jon was with his brother and Theon in his own room.

The two men were helping him prepare as well, but in a different manner.

"Come on, drink Snow." Robb quirked his eyebrow at Theon.

"He's a Stark now, Theon," The Ironborn scoffed. "Jon I would not drink that, who knows what the hell he put in it."

Jon glanced at the mug in his hand, the liquid inside golden in color with frothy white pieces floating through it. Almost like a mixture of piss and...other shit. The smell of it was atrocious as well, similar to the blossoming scent of death. He passed the mug back to Theon once he was done observing it. "There is no way I am drinking this, what did you even say this was anyway?"

Theon took back the concoction taking a swig of it himself. The other men grimaced and turned away from the sight of their friend consuming the questionable substance. The blonde lad coughed before laughing at the disgusted looks on his friends' faces. "Don't worry," He raised the drink. "It's a little pick-me-up if you need to 'rise' to the occasion."

Jon's grimace widened, "That is disgusting. Why you offer that to me?"

"Jon," Theon patted his shoulder, "It's your wedding night tonight."

"Okay, okay." Robb cut in. "Do not need to hear about that involving my brother."

Theon shrugged and swallowed the rest of the drink placing the mug on the bedside table. Jon sat on his bed while he pondered on the upcoming event. He had barely seen Myria at all during the past week, except when she fought Robb in the yard. He found her skill so impressive and kind of attractive, but he would never admit that out loud. He wondered if she was as nervous as he was. Or if she was excited about the whole situation. He hoped so since she seemed to fit in so well in Winterfell. She found a friend for Bran, played with little Rickon, Sansa and Arya both seemed to enjoy her company, and she could definitely hold her own against Robb and Theon. He wished she honestly enjoyed their company and instead was not using a facade to better her own life.

Jon glanced up as Theon fell onto the bed, bouncing on the mattress. "So Jon, you excited?" He wiggled his eyebrows at the dark haired man. Jon shook his head at his friend's childish antics, while Robb smirked at the two.

"Theon leave him be, he looks like he's about to pass out." Robb patted his brother's arm and Jon gave him a grateful gaze. Robb was correct about his statement. Jon felt like he wanted to throw up, pass out, even just drop dead. He never thought he would be married, he spent most of his life as a bastard until the previous week. Most of the people in Winterfell had suddenly switched from ignoring him to treating him like a high born man. It had been a vast culture shock for him, but he attempted to exist as he always had: in the shadows. He spent most of his time with Robb, Theon, and Ghost anyway so it was not difficult to remain invisible.

His thoughts were broken when the door to his chamber opened. He and the other men turned their heads towards the door to see Eddard Stark standing in the opening of the doorway. The older male smiled at the three cooped up on Jon's bed. The sight gave him flashbacks to when Theon first arrived 10 years ago, when Robb and Jon insisted on sharing a room with the young Greyjoy until he had fully settled into his new life. The boys had been inseparable since.

"As much as you three are having fun, Robb and Theon have other places to be." The two men swiftly rose from the bed and left the room as the lord of Winterfell closed the door behind them, leaving him and his son the only ones in the room. He gave a small grin to the young man while he pulled up a chair to sit in front of Jon. "I'm sure you have questions," Jon shrugged his shoulders at his father's statement. "Well, I am here to answer any you may have."

Jon took in a deep breath, his hand shook as he squeezed out his first question, "Why am I the one marrying Myria?" He looked Ned in the eyes. "I am a bastard, I've always been. Why not Robb?"

"Jon, I am not going to lie to you, King Robert personally wanted you because it would protect Lady Dayne from the Queen's wrath." He watched his son's brow furrowed with confusion.

"The Queen's wrath?"

"Aye, she had tried to send Lady Dayne to the Bolton's for marriage." He watched as Jon tensed. "So Robert wanted to marry her to a bastard to keep the Queen at bay, but I was the one who insisted he legitimize you."

Jon sniffed, "So Myria would not be stuck married to a Snow?"

Ned shook his head, "So you would have a reason to stay," He moved to sit next to his son on the bed. "Benjen told me how much you wanted to leave, but I know your place is here with your family." Jon felt a single tear trail down his face. His father wanted him here, truly wanted him in Winterfell. Ned Stark pulled him into a hug, patting him on the back. Jon clung to his father letting light tears fall from his eyes. The older man was surprised at the reaction, surely Jon knew everyone loved him and wanted him to stay.

Jon pulled away from his father, "Thank you for telling me that father, I really needed to hear it." Ned gave his son a somber smile.

"Once you are married, and before I leave for King's Landing I need to tell you and Myria something else." Jon wondered what else his father would want to say to both of them, probably nothing of importance at the moment.

He gave his father a nod of acknowledgement. Ned then rose from the bed, and motioned for the groom to follow him out of the room. Jon swept up his new wolf fur cloak onto his shoulders while grabbing the grey Stark maiden cloak off of his chair. He walked behind his father down the halls until they reached the outer yard. Ned motioned for Jon to go on ahead of him and once he was stepping into the Godswood he then turned and went back into the castle to retrieve the bride.

Jon walked through the almost silent woods, following the light din of speaking until he came upon the wedding ceremony setup in front of the Weirwood tree. There was a small crowd of people waiting by the tree with the Royal family sitting in chairs while the rest stood or ambled around. There were no decorations at all, just the trees and the Gods to witness. Lady Stark tried to decorate, but Myria had insisted there was no need. She wanted a purely Northern wedding, stating she wanted to know the Old Gods as her Gods. So the only color in the woods was the red hue of the Weirwood leaves floating in the air.

He quickly maneuvered through the people in attendance to stand in front of his family's sacred tree, and waited for the ceremony to begin. While Jon was waiting by the tree he noticed a strange face enter the clearing. A man with dark toned skin with ink black short hair, styled facial hair, and piercing purple eyes. He wore a yellow tunic and a brown fur lined cloak, simply speaking he vastly stood out among the crowd of Northerners and the royal court. The other thing which stood out on the already striking man was the bright purple fabric folded under his left arm. His eyes met Jon's and he quickly slipped through the crowd to approach the slightly younger man.

Jon stood straighter as the man stopped in front of him, "I assume you are the man getting married to my cousin?" The man stated in an extremely thick Dornish accent. Jon nodded his head at him and the Dornish scoffed, "No surprise. You are as stoic as any other Stark," He turned his head back to the crowd. "I suppose you would know where Lord Eddard Stark has gone."

"Last I saw he was going back into the Keep, my Lord." He smirked at the Stark.

"No need to call me 'Lord'. You can just call me Edric." Jon smiled and nodded his head before Edric turned and walked back towards the Keep.

The Dornish man swept through the hallways attempting to track down Lord Stark. He never enjoyed the cramped feeling of Northern castles, but at least this one was warm. He continued to turn corners searching for the Quiet Wolf when he bumped into a young child on older than 6. The little boy had raggedy auburn hair and a bright toothy smile. He smiled down at him before he heard a growl from next to the boy. A large black direwolf scowled at the stranger while scooting closer to his master. Before either the wolf or the man could react Lord Stark came around the corner and stopped at the sight. He grasped the nape of the wolf's neck while pulling it away from the wedding guest.

"Rickon, what did I tell you? Your wolf stays in the kennel with his brothers and sisters during the wedding." The small child pouted at his father.

"But Shaggydog was lonely!"

The father shook his head at his son before sending him and his pet on his way. He then turned to the Dornish man who was still standing with a smirk on his face. "Lord Dayne, I presume?" He nodded his head towards the Stark. "I am sorry I was unable to greet you at the gate it's been a busy day. Were you alone on your travels?"

"No Lord Stark, I brought some of my household guard on the way up. You know how the open road can be," Eddard nodded his head at the other Lord. "I was hoping I could see my cousin." The older man nodded his head and started walking back the way he came. Edric followed in silence and soon they came upon a door with soft voices floating into the hall. Lord Stark lightly knocked on the door and a middle-aged red head woman opened the door to the two men.

"Ned she almost ready like I told a few minutes ago, you can at least try to be more patient," She noticed the other man behind her husband. "Who is this?"

Eddard turned towards the Dayne and gestured to him, "This is Lord Edric of house Dayne," She curtseyed to the Dornish Lord. "Lord Edric this is my wife Lady Catelyn Stark. Cat, he wishes to see Myria." Catelyn smiled before opening the door to let the Lord into the room, and Edric smiled at the Lady as he was led inside. He observed a young girl with flame red hair talking lightly with a brunette woman as both of them were puttering around his cousin. She had midnight black hair styled in a half up/half down way with baby's breath placed in the back of it, her white dress floated around her giving her an ethereal look, and her deep violet eyes matched his own almost perfectly. He smiled at the woman his cousin had become, it had been 17 years since he last laid eyes on her as a babe in her mother's arms. Even though he was only 6 years her senior he had a slight paternal feeling over his only cousin.

Their eyes met and he noticed shock fall over her face at the sight of him. "Hello, it's been quite some time cousin." Her lip began to quiver as she rushed over to Edric and wrapped her arms around his torso. He rubbed her back before pulling her away from him.

Myria smiled while she lightly fixed her hair, "I thought no one in the family could make it." Edric shrugged his shoulders, unfolded the purple fabric in his arms, and presented it to her.

"Someone had to bring you our maiden cloak, it is a rather important tradition." Myria gazed at the cloak with awe. The fabric was faded with age, but the purple of the silk was still very prominent against the silver stitching of the fallen star over the sword of house Dayne. She carefully grasped the piece of clothing before throwing it over her shoulders. Once she had it on her back Edric took the silver clasps and attached them to her dress.

"Thank you cousin, this means more to me than you could know." Myria watched the slight smirk form on her cousin's face.

"Your welcome Myria, but please just call me Edric," His cousin nodded while wiping the small tears from her eyes. "One other tradition if you want it. I could be the one to present you at the wedding."

"I would love that Edric." She watched as the man in front of her broke out in a large grin. He stepped away as the brunette woman returned to his cousin's side to place a small silver circlet upon her head and then adjusted her hair around it.

The younger girl in the room spoke up, "Myria you look like a princess! I hope I look like this on my wedding day." Myria laughed at the girl. She was right however, his cousin would shock the soul out of her poor betrothed soon enough.

"Sansa I bet your wedding to the prince will be even more grand than my own, but thank you for the compliment." The girl smiled at her. Before Sansa could speak up again her mother approached the group.

Lady Catelyn's words caught everyone's attention, "It's time Myria. Are you ready to go to the Godswood?" The Dornish woman nodded and steeled her nerves as she took Edric's arm while waiting for Willow, Sansa, and Lady Catelyn to go ahead of the pair of Daynes. Once they left the room and started to move down the halls to reach the outer yard Edric brought his other arm up to lightly run his hand over her shaking one. She gave him a grateful look before continuing onward. The bride and cousin reached the outer yard along with the entrance to the Godswood, but before Edric could lead Myria inside she pulled him to a stop.

Edric turned to his younger cousin, "Is something wrong Myria?" She looked up at him, squeezed his arm, and shook her head.

"I just, have nerves I suppose."

He pulled her into a light hug, "Every woman does when they get married, but so do the men. I saw your betrothed earlier and he looked like the was going to throw up," she giggled at his words. "I swear he looked the same way Uncle Arthur did when he married your mother. All green in the gills." The anecdote paired with his summer tone soothed the Dayne woman and she pulled out of the hug.

"Father was scared too? The great Sword of the Morning." Edric nodded his head.

"Yes he was, and so is your future husband at the moment. But all of Arthur's nerves went away the instant he saw Aunt Clara walking towards him with her brother by her side." Edric watched as a feeling of relief passed over Myria's face. She grasped his arm again and the two entered the Godswood.

They followed the path through the trees until they caught glimpses of people standing in two separate rows with the large Weirwood tree in the middle of the clearing and the royal family sitting off to the side of the tree with Jon standing alone in front holding a grey cloak between his hands almost as a lifeline. They continued onward and reached the back of the crowd and once they were spotted the clearing grew quiet, Jon lifted his head to face the path, and made eye contact with Myria's amethyst gaze. Both felt a large gust of relief when they saw the other, and Jon seemed spell bounded by Myria's appearance while Myria beamed at Jon's awe-struck face. Everyone watched on as the Daynes continued to walk up to the tree and the jaw-dropped Stark. They stopped just short of the man and he snapped out of his amazement at the beginning the ceremony.

Eddard Stark spoke up from the front of the crowd, "Who comes before the Old Gods this day?" Jon's dark grey eyes pierced Myria through every word.

Edric patted her arm, "Myria of house Dayne comes here to be wed. A woman grown, true born and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?" He gazed at Jon with his final words.

Jon stepped closer to the pair, "Jon of house Stark, son of Lord Eddard Stark; I claim her. Who gives her?"

"Edric of house Dayne, cousin to Lady Myria and head of house Dayne."

"Lady Myria can you take this man?" Lord Stark continued. Myria stepped away from her cousin and closer to Jon.

She smiled at her black haired betrothed, "I take this man."

Jon smiled back at her as his father spoke the next lines, "You may now cloak your bride under your protection." Jon walked gently towards Myria and stepped behind her to unclip the Dayne maiden cloak. He passed the purple cloak to her cousin and then clasped the heavy Stark cloak to her shoulders, smoothing it out before he stepped away moving to face Myria once again. They then both kneeled in front of the tree in silent prayer while the rest of the crowd did so as well. Once they stood again Jon leaned in and kissed her. Myria raised her hands to his shoulders as their lips melded against each other. Jon pulled away before the kiss became heated and the crowd's cheers were thunderous.

Jon beamed at his new wife before sweeping her into his arms and carrying her out of the Godswood and towards the Feast Hall. As he was carrying her he could hear her giggle wash through his ears like soft bells. "Jon put me down! I can walk well enough on my own." He shook his head at her request.

"I wish to carrying my wife to the feast if it pleases her," He watched as her face bloomed with a rosy blush before she lightly nodded her head.

"It pleases me, husband." They both quirked their lips at each other and shared another soft kiss before Jon entered the Keep. Once they made it to the Hall and he had successfully placed her in one of the two chairs at the high table he sat down next to her. "So we are married now, Jon. How does it feel?" Jon glanced down at his new spouse with mirth.

"I have never been happier in all my life," he turned and grasped her small hand. "I thought you were a vision when I first laid eyes on you and I still think this whole day has been a magnificent dream that I am going to wake up from at any moment."

Myria felt small tears enter her eyes once more at Jon's confession, "Then I hope neither of us ever wakes up." She then leaned up to meet his lips in a passionate kiss. As they became lost in their own world the rest of the wedding crowd entered the hall and the long festivities began.


	9. Chapter 9

Jon felt his sleep leaving his body and with it his wondrous dream of marriage, but his eyes snapped open fully when he felt light breathing on his chest. He quickly glanced down to see a mass of black hair and small tan arms wrapped around his torso. He then noticed other body parts against his own flesh and he blushed. He also noticed his own arm was wrapped around her body with his hand dangerously lower than it should be. His blushed increased ten fold, but instead of removing his hand he pulled Myria's sleeping form closer to his own body as his mind flashed back to the apparent night before.

He smiled at the night's highlights and let every tantalizing image sear into his mind so he would never forget any of it for a moment. He felt his new wife shuffle in the sheets as eyelids fluttered against his chest. Myria tensed before she relaxed in his arms.

"Hmmm, Jon?" He could hear Myria's smile.

"Yes Myria?"

Her head lifted to meet his heated gaze, "Could we perhaps have a repeat of last night?" Jon chuckled at her question and watched a blush cover her own face.

"As much as I would enjoy that so much, my father wanted to speak with us before he heads off to King's Landing." Myria nodded her head and started to roll off of Jon when she groaned and curled in on her stomach. "Myria, are you alright?"

She slowly uncurled and tried once again to climb out of the bed, "Yes, just a little pain from last night."

Jon flooded with guilt, "I didn't mean to hurt you." She shook her head at his sorrowful tone.

"I wasn't in pain Jon, believe me. It's just because it was my first time. My body just is not used to all of this yet." He shuffled over to where she was sitting on the edge of the bed and hugged her from behind.

"I'll be more gentle next time then, until you're used to it." She smiled at his sweet words. She turned her head to catch his lips, the both of them becoming vastly invested in each other. Jon pulled her back underneath him as he kissed down her jaw and started to nibble on her neck, until there was a knock on the door. Jon and Myria broke apart quickly and Jon threw the bed covers over himself and his wife.

The person on the other side of the door knocked once again, "M'lady, M'lord? Are you awake yet?" Myria's ears perked up at Willow's voice coming through the door.

"Yes Willow, you may come in." The door creaked open while Jon gave Myria a surprised look, and she simply shrugged her shoulders at him. Willow quickly entered the room and shut the door behind her. She spared a glance at her Lady and her new husband on the bed before averting her eyes and moving to lay out an outfit for Myria.

While she was laying out a pale orange dress with white accents she spoke up, "This dress is from Lord Dayne, Myria," She held up the dress for her to observe. "There's no corset for it so you can simply dress yourself today." She laid the dress back on the chair she had placed it on, gave a small curtsy while keeping her eyes on the floor, and left the room without any other words. Myria rolled out of the covers and stepped over to put on her slip and the dress her cousin left for her.

"Thoughtful of your cousin," Jon spoke.

Myria nodded her head, "He must of known a corset would have killed my aching body today." Jon once again let a simmer of guilt pass through his mind, but quickly disregarded it and got out of bed himself to retrieve some of his own clothes. While he was lacing up his britches he felt a tap on his back, and turned to see Myria's own back to him. "Can you button up the back of the dress? I am having trouble reaching some of them." Jon slowly brought his hands up and deftly secured each small button of the dress. He personally wished he could be unbuttoning this beautiful dress for her, but he knew they could not hide in the room all day.

"Thank you Jon," He gave her a small grunt of acknowledgement before throwing his brown tunic over his head along with his black jerkin, afterwards he secured his wolf skinned cloak around his back and walked over to his wife. He watched her throw her own cloak of light brown deer pelt over her back and clasp it around her dress. He then held out his arm for her and together they left their safe hide-away to face the rest of the day. As they walked through the halls people would stop to congratulate the pair, giving blessings of good health and many children.

They reached the Feast Hall far quicker than they expected and were greeted with the sight of the rest of the Stark family breaking their fast along with Edric. Lady Catelyn and Lord Eddard sat at the front of the long table together with Robb and Theon on Catelyn's right, all four immersed in a conversation over their food. On Theon's right was Edric who was being barraged with questions from Arya sitting across from him and Bran on her left. To Ayra's right Sansa quietly ate her eggs and fish while rolling her eyes at her sister's childish inquiries. Little Rickon was placed next to Edric, but he could hardly keep his eyes open to the Dornish's fascinating stories and was swaying in his seat. Myria and Jon strode over to the two seats between Sansa and Ned which were unoccupied and placed themselves in them before picking food to eat from the middle of the table. While they began to break their own fast Theon ruined their small chance of being ignored.

"Well, well. The happy couple emerges from their den at last," Robb shoved Theon's shoulder to get him to shut up, but it was a fruitless effort. "Did you have fun? Wish you would have let us carry Myria up for you, Jon." Jon glared at his friend and clutched his fork in his hand to prevent himself from slapping him.

"The bedding ceremony is a barbaric tradition and I am glad Myria did not have to suffer through it."

Ned nodded his head at his son's words, "It is quite humiliating for the bride and I am proud of you, Jon."

"It was so romantic when you stopped those drunk fools from carting off Myria," Sansa's girlish voice cut in. "I hope I will get the same treatment from my darling Joffrey."

Edric nearly choked on his drink when he heard Arya mutter 'Seven hells' at her sister, but quickly covered for the feisty girl, "So how are you feeling cousin?"

"Slightly sore, but nothing out of the usual," Edric nodded his head at her words. "Thank you for the lovely dress, Edric." He smiled at his cousin's thanks and inclined his head towards her. Everyone spent the next few minutes continuing talk of the wedding until Arya's voice cut in on the 'adult' talk.

"So have you really gone to Braavos?" Edric smirked at the young girl's excitement.

"Indeed I have, I saw the Titan of Braavos in the bay and visited the temple of the Faceless Men." Arya's eyes sparkled at his words.

"Faceless Men?!"

Edric laughed, "Well they are not truly faceless, but it is a part of their religion. They believe having a specific 'identity' per-say weakens the soul of a person, at least that's what most people perceive of their beliefs. They are quite a secretive bunch." Arya hung on every spiced word that left Edric's mouth, and Bran was practically shaking in his seat for more stories.

Sansa quirked her brow at her siblings, "Does your wife come with you on your travels Edric?"

Edric shook his head, "Actually I am not married yet," Sansa seemed surprised with the fact. "I am only 23 and in Dorne there is not as much pressure for marriage."

"But are you not the head of your house? Do you not need to get married you secure your house's survival?" Sansa and Edric turned their heads at Theon's interjection. He was looking at Edric with slight intrigue layered with disgust.

"Well," Edric started at Theon, "As head of my house I will get married eventually, but for the moment I am in no need." He glanced at Myria and Jon before turning back to the prickish Ironborn, "My house is secure at this time and if I were to drop dead tomorrow I would not worry at all."

Theon scoffed, "And why's that?"

"I would leave Starfall and house Dayne under the care of my lovely cousin and her new husband." Jon choked on his mouthful of food at Edric's declaration. "And their firstborn son would take the name Dayne and become the new Lord." The table became silent as Edric's words sunk in. Theon glared at Jon and Edric before jumping up from his seat and leaving. Robb watched his friend leave with concern, but his mother's hand on his arm prevented him from leaving the table.

Ned cleared his throat, "Well logically it makes sense, unless you wish to leave Starfall to the hands of the Daynes from High Hermitage."

Edric grimaced at Lord Stark's option, "I would never leave my family's name, much less our ancestral seat and sword, in the hands of the Darkstar," He shook his head while he cut into his food. "Gerold Dayne may be handsome on the outside, but he is a sadistic and dangerous beast who is obsessed with power."

"I never thought anyone in our family would be so cruel." Edric glanced up at his cousin's words.

"He wasn't at first, my father even thought he would become the next Sword of the Morning. Alas when Dawn did not choose him he became enraged and cursed my father, and within the next year my father had passed." Myria cringed at his story. A tense silence washed over the table as many of the family absorbed his words of woe, and while they were contemplating their own worries of his tale Jon was having a panic over the chance of being a high lord of the Realm. He had just been a bastard a week ago for Gods sakes, and now he was married and his wife's cousin would name them his heirs if he bore no children at all?!

Catelyn decided to change the discussion back to more favorable topics, "So how long do you wish to visit, Lord Edric?"

The Dornish man smiled at the Lady Stark, "Well not long actually. I just wanted to speak with Myria in private and then I will have to be on my way soon." She inclined her head at the man and then turned back to her son and husband to continue their previous conversation. Edric lightly leaned over the table to speak with Myria when he felt a small tug on his tunic from the right of his body. He looked over to see little Rickon pulling on his clothing in an attempt to catch his attention.

"How does it choose?"

Edric furrowed his brow in confusion, "How does what choose, Rickon?"

"Dawn." Arya and Bran nodded their heads at their younger brother's inquiry. Myria watched her cousin for an answer as well, barely listening to Sansa's gossip about some servant girl.

Edric sighed at the children, but obliged their imaginative whims, "Dawn, the ancestral sword of my house, is the only sword in all of the lands made from the heart of a fallen star. As such it has some mystical properties to it. It is as light as Valerian steel and even stronger, but it almost has a mind of its own."

"How does a sword have a mind?" Bran cut into his telling. He chuckled at the boy.

"The sheath for the sword was made out of the shell of the star so it would always be protected, but as such only a person with a pure heart and heroic soul could even remove the sword from the sheath. Much less even wield Dawn."

Bran absorbed the new information, "So to be a Sword of the Morning a person needs to be good and pure of heart always." Edric gave the boy a nod of conformation.

"Yes," He raised his hand to hover over his heart. "But if the wielder ever loses their heart to darkness then they will lose the power of Dawn forever."

The children seemed enamored by the tale and started talking among themselves over whether they could hold the sword or not. Myria smiled at their wondrous imaginations and asked Edric, "So Gerold could not pull Dawn from its sheath because of his obsession with power?" Her cousin twirled his hand to symbolize her answer being correct and the matter was settled for the moment. The family continued to eat and converse with smaller topics as time went on and each person slowly left the table. Robb left first to track down Theon and to work on his swordplay with the Master-at-Arms, Sansa pulled Arya away from the table to join Princess Myrcella and the other girls in their needlepoint lesson with the Septa, Lady Catelyn swept up her two younger sons and led them away to Maester Luwin to begin their morning lessons, and Ned asked to speak privately with Jon. Jon nodded to his father, rose from his seat, kissed Myria's hand and cheek, and bid her and Edric farewell.

The two Daynes were left alone at the now very empty table. Myria shuffled her remaining food around her plate with her utensils while Edric stood from his seat and wandered around to the other side of the table. He came up next to her and extended his hand to help her from her chair. She accepted it and they looped arms much like yesterday and began to stroll through the Keep's many halls.

As they were walking Myria posed a question for her cousin, "Why bring up Dawn in your story about Gerold?"

Edric smirked down at her, "Quite observant my dear," He could read the blanket of displeasure sitting on her face. "I wanted to tell you more about our family sword." She teetered her head in acknowledgement. "Also because I brought Dawn with me on my journey." His words made Myria stop in her tracks pulling him to a sudden stop as well.

"You brought Dawn with you?"

"Yes."

"Because you are the new Sword?" He shook his head 'no'. Before she could continue her surprised inquiries Edric led her into a room flanked with two guards wearing white and purple armor. The two bowed at the nobles as they entered the room. The room was warmly decorated with the fireplace lit and a bowl of oranges sitting on the desk by the wall. Edric walked over, picked up one of the fruits, and began to peel it open.

"I had to bring my own oranges as well. The ones the Northerners offer are always too sour, almost like they have never eaten a true Dornish orange." He offered Myria a piece of the citrus food which she accepted and plopped into her mouth. As she chewed the sweet and tangy treat she glanced to the bed to see a long wooden case set upon it. She tilted her head in curiosity at the box, but Edric swiftly reached it before her and unlatched the box pulling a sheathed sword out from its insides.

The sheath was decorated in extremely small amethysts and dark yellow topazes depicting a star falling from a sapphire laden heavens. The pommel and hilt of the sword were nearly a blinding silver dotted with filigree designs of ivy and rosemallow hibiscuses with their star like shape gently wrapping around to the edge of the hilt. Myria slowly inched closer to the sword and Edric passed it into her hands. To her it weighed lighter than her own water dancing sword, which was only 4 pounds itself, even though this weapon was well over 4 feet in length and around 3 inches in width. She grasped the hilt in her right hand and the sheath in her left and pulled them apart.

The sword slid out of the sheath smoother than hot butter and the blade itself was a sacred sight to behold. The main metal was pure white and there was a streak of pale blue metal running through the middle of the blade that almost pulsed with energy. She gently ran her hand over the streak and could feel a warmth coming from it, but she could not explain the source. Her jaw dropped as she glanced up to see Edric's awed face as he too observed the blade with a sort of holy reverence.

His soft words broke the trance the sword had on her, "It seems we have a new Sword of the Morning, Myria."

She began to stutter, "Edric I can't...I can't be next the Sword of the Morning!"

"Well seeing as you just pulled Dawn from its sheath, you are."

Myria shook her head in disbelief, "This can't be Dawn." She quickly pushed the mystical relic back into its sheath and attempted to give it back to her cousin. He simply moved it back into her arms. "I am not worthy to take my father's place."

Edric pulled his little cousin into a hug, "Because you think that is the very reason you _are_ worthy. This sword has a way of seeing a person's true soul and it has chosen you Myria, whether you think you deserve it or not." He pulled away from her and waited as she stepped closer to the fireplace with a contemplative mask upon her face.

Edric Dayne watched as his cousin sniffled and hugged her father's blade close to her body and in that moment she had never seemed more vulnerable or more powerful.


	10. Chapter 10

Ser Jon Connington watched as Daenerys stood out on the balcony, staring out over Pentos. It had been a week since Viserys had informed the knight and the princess of his plans to marry his sister off. The whole past week the pair had immersed themselves in learning the Dothraki language so Daenerys would have a chance of surviving with the savage tribe. Connington personally wished he could sneak off with the princess in the night to protect her from her brother, but she refused his offer of salvation. She believed her brother would not let harm come to her and still trusted him, a foolish thought in Jon's mind.

"Daenerys!" Ser Jon watched as Dany flinched at the sound of her brother's voice calling for her. She turned her head and watched as he walked into the spa towards her with a piece of clothing in his arms. "There is our bride to be. With her ever faithful shadow." Viserys sent a quick glare over his sister's head at the knight that did not go unnoticed by Jon. Viserys gave his little sister a large false smile while presenting her with the clothing, "Look a gift from Illyrio."

Dany glanced at the dress with a blank expression. "Touch it," Viserys said, "Go on, feel the fabric." She slowly raised her arm to reach out and grasp the edge of the dress feeling the soft, but very sheer fabric. "Isn't he a most gracious host?"

"He is now that you are giving him what he wants," Jon muttered under his breath and the Valyrian male's face contorted from glee to rage.

Before her brother could snap at the knight Dany cut in, "What Ser Connington means is we've been his guest for over a year and he's never asked us for anything."

Viserys's smile returned, but in a far tighter way, "Well Illyrio is no fool, he knows I won't forget my friends when I come into my throne." The princess nodded her head slightly and Viserys handed the dress over to one of the many handmaidens in the spa room, looked to the knight, and said, "Leave us, Ser. I wish for a word with my sister alone." Ser Connington held his tongue, bowed to the royal siblings and started to stroll from the room. As he reached the doorway and began to turn the corner he could hear the prince speak to the princess, "You still slouch."

Connington stormed through the manor with anger engraved on his face. He was still enraged with Viserys and Illyrio's plan to sell of princess Daenerys. He passed through the entrance to the gardens when a voice caught his attention, "Ah, Ser Connington. Just the man I was looking for." Jon cranked his head towards the voice and saw Lord Illyrio himself walking his way. The frail old man had a smile of victory on his face, almost as if he knew the knight could cause him no harm no matter what he did. "I was hoping to take a turn in the garden and was hoping you would accompany me for a time." He gave Illyrio a short nod before stepping in behind the aging man as they both began to pass through the lush foliage.

They wandered in silence for a time until the Essosi man spoke up, "I've noticed you and the princess have been taking the time to learn Dothraki, a useful skill. It will help her transition better." He smiled at the knight's steaming anger. "You can't protect the girl forever, and this is helpful for your King. He will get his army."

"But they will never truly follow him, they will only follow their Khal," Illyrio tried to cut in, but was unsuccessful. "And this arrangement only helps you protect you city from invaders. It does nothing to help either of my charges."

"So he will not get an army you say?" The older man raised his brows in false concern at the Westerosi man.

"No, but you made it look like he will get one though. In truth Viserys is selling his sister away and will get nothing in return. You will reap the spoils while that poor 16 year old girl will be the one to suffer." The red head watched as the Lord's face reddened with shame from his ruse being revealed.

They both stopped their walk, "So why not simply inform the King of what he will lose?"

Jon shook his head, "The King will lose nothing, he is so immersed in your lie and he has not held love for his sister in any way for quite some years."

Illyrio observed as the knight admitted to the boy-King's faults, and felt his plan was safe. He now knew for certain the foolish man would have no issue gifting his sister to the Khal even if he had to drag her to the wedding himself. He waited in silence as Connington sighed and walked away in defeat. The Essosi lord continued on his walk reminding himself of all the preparations he had to finish before the Khal arrived.

Now all that needed to go right was the ceremony later today.

Dany sat on her bed after her strange talk in the spa with her brother rubbing her sore feet. She was so distraught from Viserys's words she had stepping in the water before it cooled enough and burned the soles of her feet. The handmaidens had given her a salve and she tried to gently rub it into her skin without irritating the reddened flesh more. The sound of her door creaking open caused her to tilt her head to see Ser Jon walking into her room.

"Jon, I'm sorry my brother sent you away." She watched him shake his head as he walked over to her.

"It is within his rights as our King," he quirked his brows at her actions. "I'm sorry princess, did something happen to your feet?"

Dany laughed, "I was foolish and got into the bath water too early."

The knight shook his head while chuckling at his charge, "You burned them didn't you?" She nodded her head bashfully. "It's a normal thing to do, you have nerves and there is nothing wrong with that my lady."

The princess smiled up at her friend and stood to put on the dress Viserys had given her earlier. It was a beautiful pale purple to bring out her eyes with off-the-shoulder sleeves. Daenerys normally would love to wear a dress like this, except this specific one was made out of sheer fabric which barely covered her skin at all. She was rather embarrassed to wear such a dress in front of a crowd of people. She scooped up the outfit and walked over to her panel changing screen. She watched as her old friend turned his back as she went behind the screen, and smiled at his respect. She shimmied into the vulgar clothing and stepped back out to the main area of her quarters.

Ser Connington turned back around and she watched as his face went pale and his eyes shot down to the floor.

"Daenerys is that the dress your brother gave you?"

She blushed, "He said it would please the Khal."

Jon raised his head so his brown eyes caught her purple ones, "You should not be dressed in that my lady. It demeans your position."

"I'm sure Viserys just wants the Khal to like me." She watched as sadness filled the knight's eyes.

"I don't mean to speak out of turn, but if your mother saw you like this it would break her heart."

His words sunk into her mind and tears started to fill her eyes. She knew Jon was right, her mother would weep if she saw how her brother was treating her, but what could she do? She could not just abandon the only family she had left, but her brother was horrible to her. She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at her protector. She remembered what he looked like all those years ago next to her beautiful mother. Both were not young then, but they were full of life. Ever since losing his Queen the knight had aged exponentially. His bright red beard had grayed at the edges, small wrinkles had formed on his forehead from worrying so much, and his brown eyes had dulled from a rich chocolate color to a hue closer to dirt. Even with all these changes he still stood tall and proud. The best friend of her oldest brother, her mother's shield, and now her own.

"Jon?" She finally spoke up after her tears had fully dried.

"Yes, Dany?"

"I know I have to go through with this marriage, even if I know I don't want it," He sighed at her words. "However, you are my sworn sword now so I want you to be by my side no matter what." His eyes brightened with her declaration and he kneeled in front of his princess.

"I promise." He then stood and extended his arm out to Daenerys which she took with a smile and a renewed spirit.

They both left the room and walked to the front of the manor where Lord Mopatis and the Targaryen King were waiting along with many household guards for the Dothraki Khal to arrive. Viserys scoffed at their appearance together, but Illyrio simply collected the young girl from Ser Connington and placed her next to her older brother. He then led the knight to stand next to himself while they all waited in the heat of the day for the hoard. While they waited, Jon noticed Viserys's temper start to flare.

"Where is he?" The silver haired man asked Illyrio.

The older man turned and gave Viserys a blank look before responding, "The Dothraki are not known for their punctuality." Right as the words left his mouth however, everyone in the area could hear the sound of hooves approaching. Connington watched Dany tense up, but he could do nothing to comfort her at the moment. When the Khal and the rest of his riders came into view Lord Illyrio walked to meet the group on their horses.

"_Respect the one who is respectful, great Khal. May I present my honored guests, Viserys of house Targaryen, the third of his name, the rightful King of the Andals and the First Men. And his sister, Daenerys of house Targaryen._" As Illyrio spoke, Jon let the harsh words float through his ears as he slowly translated the introduction. He watched as the Khal's eyes passed over Illyrio and Viserys to settle on Dany. He stared deeply at her for a few seconds.

While the Khal was watching the princess Jon could make out Viserys's whispers to her, "They cut their braids when they lose a fight to show their shame. Khal Drogo has never lost a fight. He's a savage of course, but he's one of the finest killers alive. And you will be his queen." Viserys stopped his whispers when he caught the Khal's eyes, and Illyrio turned towards the siblings.

"Come forward my dear." Daenerys glanced at Jon and when she saw him nod his head she stepped forward to follow Lord Mopatis. She shakily stepped closer to Khal Drogo, but as Ser Connington took his eyes off of her he saw the horse lord watching him instead with burning curiosity. Jon bowed his head toward the Khal and the man returned it before setting his eyes on the woman in front of him. He and Daenerys held eye contact for a few moments before he reared up his horse and turned back to return the way he came with all of his men following his action.

Viserys ran up to Illyrio once all of the Dothraki had left, "What? Did he not like her?"

"If he did not like her, we would know." Illyrio then offered the Targaryen siblings a walk through the garden and as the three left the entrance to wander the knight followed behind in silence. They continued turning through the corners of the garden until they reached the bench Dany was so fond of sitting on and watching the waves. "It won't be long now. Soon you will cross the Narrow Sea and take back your father's throne. The people drink secret toasts to your health, they cry out for their true king."

Connington rolled his eyes at the flourished words, even he knew the peasants couldn't care less who sat on the throne as long as they had food. "When will they be married?" Viserys asked as they all began to turn back towards the manor.

"Mostly likely tomorrow. The Dothraki never stay in one place for too long." Dany and Jon shared a look at the Lord's words.

"Is it true they lie with their horses?" Viserys asked stupidly, and the knight rolled his eyes at his foolish words.

Illyrio chuckled, "I would not ask Khal Drogo that." Dany lightly laughed at her brother's conversation. Viserys calmly turned around and harshly slapped his sister across the face, causing her to cry out, before turning back around as if nothing had happened. Jon pulled the princess close to him and away from the King.

"Do you take me for a fool?" He pressured Illyrio.

Illyrio shook himself out of his shock at the man's reaction and answered, "I take you for a King. King's lack the caution of common men; I apologize if I've given offence."

Viserys scoffed, "I know how to play a man like Drogo, I give him a queen and he gives me an army."

Dany stopped walking, pulled away from Ser Connington, and took a deep breath, "I don't want to marry the Khal. I want to go home." Jon gripped his sword at his Lady's foolish lack of restraint. Viserys and Illyrio stopped walking and turned back towards the girl, almost shocked at how she spoke out against her brother after his previous action.

Her brother walked over to her and said, "So do I. I want us both to go home, but they took it from us. They took our mother from us as well. So tell me, sweet sister, how do we go home?"

Dany looked down for a moment before giving her response, "We could send letters to the Martells and Tyrells. Both are loyal to us and both have men I could marry in their families. Either of them could give us an army as well as safe passage back to the Seven Kingdoms." All three men were surprised at her answer. Jon was proud of her using her knowledge he taught her all those years ago, Illyrio was worried Viserys might actually heed his sister's wise words, and Viserys was angered at his sister's sudden confidence.

"Wrong: we go home with a loyal army, Khal Drogo's army. We do not even know if the Martells and Tyrells would not try to sell us out to the Usurper." He reached out to softly brush her sore cheek before he whispered, "I would let his whole tribe fuck you, all 40,000 men and their horses too. If that's what it took." He leaned over and kissed Dany's forehead while she was frozen in fear. Then he turned and walked away from the scared girl and the disgusted knight with Lord Mopatis following him.

Jon walked over to the girl who was still standing in the same place and scooped her up into his arms, carrying her to her chambers to rest after her brother humiliated her. He set her in her bed, placed the blanket over her, and lightly patted her head before quietly leaving the girl to herself for the night. As he walked to his own chamber in the manor he prayed the wedding the next day would help free his princess and not condemn her to more suffering.

The next day found Daenerys sitting beside her husband in a white dress, watching the strange dancing of the Dothraki women as the couple received wedding gifts. She met Jon's eyes in the crowd and gave the knight a small smile, but she was boiling with nerves. The Khal had not spoken a word the whole time she had been here and she worried she displeased him in some way.

A guest approaching shocked her out of her own mind as he opened up the box he was holding to reveal a handful of snakes. She gasped as he held them up with his bare hands, and heard chuckling from next to her. She quickly turned her head to see the Khal laughing at her reaction. She blushed, but steeled her nerves, "_You enjoy feast, my Khal?_" She hoped he would not be upset by her broken Dothraki, but instead he seemed surprised, and impressed.

However his impressed face fell when he caught the bruise forming on her cheek, and he gently passed his hand over her face, "_Who laid a hand on your face?_" She tensed before looking over to where her brother, Illyrio, and Ser Jon were sitting.

"_My….brother._" She watched as Khal Drogo shot her brother a dangerous glare.

"_If he tries to lay another hand on you he will find himself without hands._" She breathed a sigh of relief at her new husband's words and nodded her head. "_In truth I was wondering if your father had laid his hand upon you._"

His words confused her, "_My father?_" The Khal gestured and she followed his hand to Connington. She laughed at the mistake and shook her head at him. "_Not father, my friend._"

"_Then why does he look at you with a father's eye?_" Dany had no words to respond to her husband, but was saved by another guest bringing a gift up to the couple. The man looked to be around Jon's age and he was clearly of Westerosi descent. If his pale skin didn't give him away then his armor holding a family crest did, and if Dany was seeing it correctly then she even knew which family it was.

He bowed to the Khal before presenting his gift, "A small gift for the new Khaleesi; Songs and histories of the Seven Kingdoms."

She took the books gratefully, "Thank you, are you from my country?"

He nodded his head, "Ser Jorah Mormont,"

"Of Bear Island?" He nodded his head in surprise at the girl's correct statement and she felt pride for being well informed about her home country.

He continued his previous statement, "I served your father for many years," He turned back towards Viserys and stated in a louder voice, "Gods be good, I hope to always serve the rightful King." The man he spoke of inclined his head towards the newcomer while Jon squinted his eyes at the other knight.

As Jorah began to return to his seat Daenerys heard her knight's voice call out, "Funny if I think about it, the Mormont family sided with their liege lords, the Starks, during the rebellion."

The other man swirled around and seemed shocked to meet with the face of Ser Jon Connington. "Ser Connington? I thought you had been killed over 12 years ago along with the late Queen Rhaella." Jorah noticed how the red headed knight's eyes darkened at the mention of the passed queen.

"The rumors you heard were wrong, Mormont." Jorah gave a small smile to the other knight before quickly leaving to reach his seat near the back of the wedding.

Daenerys heard another chuckle from her left and noticed Drogo watching the scene as well, "_It seems like your father does not approve of Jorah the Andal._"

The Valyrian girl sighed, but did not correct her husband's mistake again, "_They fight long time ago._" He nodded at her words and leaned back in his chair. They both turned back to the dancing to see the women locked in sexual positions with men of the tribe, and two of the men began to fight over one of the women. The two circled each other and drew their arakhs and began to attack. The fight went on for a few minutes while both men swung and maneuvered their way around until one caught the other's neck on his sword, drew it across, and effectively killed the man. He then walked up to the corpse, cut the dead man's braid, and threw it to Khal Drogo's feet. He slammed his cup onto the table to show his approval, and the victor went back to the woman.

Dany was in a state of shock over the violent death, but Illyrio's words to her brother caught her ear, "A Dothraki wedding without at least 3 deaths is considered a boring affair." She tried to push the moment out of her thoughts as she slowly nibbled on some of the food in front of her and quietly talk with her husband. They both were invested in a conversation about the night sky when Ser Connington walked up to the dais holding a small wooden box. Khal Drogo waited until he bowed and allowed him to approach.

He walked up to Daenerys with a sad smile on his face, "_I have a special gift for the new Khaleesi,_" Drogo smiled at the man who wielded his people's tongue so well. "_A gift from her mother,_" Dany gasped at her friend's words and watched as he opened the box to reveal a valyrian steel crown with three dragons blowing fire onto a large ruby in the middle of the metal circle. "Your mother wore this crown for over 20 years and I have kept it safe for you my princess_._" The Valyrian girl jumped up and pulled Jon into a tight hug. He patted her on the back and pulled her away to place the crown upon her silver hair. Once it was settled in the middle of her head he gave her a gaze full of pride and sorrow.

"You look so much like Rhaella."

Dany beamed at the red haired knight, "Thank you so much Jon, this means so much to me. I have no words to describe my happiness." The older man smiled down at the young girl, bowed once again to the Khal, and returned to his seat. Dany also sat back down, wiping her tears as she did. She felt a rough hand on the side of her face and saw Khal Drogo giving her a small smile.

"_He has much respect for you and your mother._" She nodded her head in agreement. He pulled his hand away from her and rose from his seat holding his hand out for her. She grasped his hand and followed him as he led her through the crowd to a beautiful white mare next to a large black stallion. "_She is for you, my Khaleesi._"

Daenerys smiled a pet her muzzle, "_She is beautiful._" Khal Drogo stepped closer to her, picked her up by her waist, and placed her on her new mare. He then jumped onto the stallion next to the mare, and began to ride slowly away from the wedding. Before Daenerys could follow her new husband she felt a hand sharply grab her leg.

Her eyes jumped down to see Viserys harshly holding her, "Make him happy." He threatened before releasing her leg and letting her leave. She glanced back one more time once she caught up with Khal Drogo to see Ser Connington waving to her with a small smile on his face.

She waved back to her dear friend before following her husband into the night.


	11. Chapter 11

Robb sighed as he wandered through the Keep heading to the next place Theon could be moping around in. Gods he hoped he had not gone to burrow his sorrows in that damn whore house again, did he even know how bad of a reputation he was gaining? He walked up the steps to the balcony overlooking the training yard when he caught sight of sandy blonde hair and wind chafed clothes. He quickly strode over to his best friend before he could run off once more.

"You know it took me quite awhile to track you down," Theon glanced over at his friend's joking tone, shrugged his shoulders, and glanced back down at the training yard where Bran was practicing his archery with his little prince friend, Tommen? Who even cared.

"Sorry that you wasted your precious time looking for me, sure you have more important things to do." Robb shook his head at his friend's pitying words.

He approached Theon and patted his back, "Nothing is more important than my family," With is words Theon shoved his hand off of his back and started to storm off again. "Oh what in Seven Hells did I do Theon?!"

The Greyjoy man yelled back to Robb, "I am not your family!"

"What?" Robb seemed shocked by his friend's outburst. "Of course you are."

"No I am not! I am a bloody ward for you father, not a Stark! I could never even begin to measure up to you, the wondrous Heir of Winterfell." He cried out. "For Gods' sake, I thought, 'At least I am better than the bastard' but NO! That prat has gone and not only gotten married, but legitimized too." The auburn man watched as his friend poured his feelings out with his rage and felt guilt wash throughout his body. He had always thought Jon felt left out because he was a Snow, he never once thought Theon felt left out for being a Greyjoy.

Before Theon could slip away, Robb threw his arms around his friend and crushed him in a hug. Theon froze at his friend's action, surely he would be mad for what he said about Jon, right? Robb pulled away, but kept his hands on Theon's shoulders, "I'm sorry."

"What did you say?"

Robb cleared his throat, "Theon, I'm sorry. You have always been a Stark, even if it isn't in name or blood. You are our family, and you always have been. From the minute you arrived after your own father gave you up we've been here for you." Theon's eyes became misty as he listened to Robb. "We never meant to make you feel left out, and I am sorry you are upset about Jon. But you know father had no say in what happened to him either, the King's word is law."

Theon nodded his head as his best friend's words seeped into his mind. He then threw his own arms around Robb and the two hugged for a moment before pulling away. Theon sniffed, straightened his back, and turned back you look at the younger boys in the yard.

"Sorry Robb, guess I was feeling jealous," Robb just chuckled and patted him on his shoulder. "Want to go help Bran with his archery? I think since he spent time with the prince his aim has gotten worse."

Robb laughed at his friend's jest and began to walk down the stairs with him, "Nothing would make me happier than to spend a day with family." He then continued down the stairs, missing Theon's face break into smile behind him.

Bran smiled as his older brother and Theon greeted him and his new friend, Tommen. The two younger boys had spent the past week since Myria introduced them spending every moment together if they were able. They both found out how similar they were: They both loved to read, They adore their pets, they had siblings who teased them, and they both wanted to be great at archery. So for most of the day they had been at the archery targets attempting to hit the bulls-eye, but most of their efforts were in vain.

"So hit any bulls-eyes boys?" Robb asked as they reached the auburn and the blonde.

Tommen shook his head, "No we've tried though."

Theon smirked at the two, "You just need to work harder then." The young friends nodded their heads breaking into motivated smiles.

They turned back around and were about to continue their practice when a sharp voice rang through the yard, "No matter how hard they try, they will fail." The four males turned their heads to see Joffrey walking towards them with Sansa strolling beside him attached by the arm. The pair were joined by Arya trailing behind them and the crown prince's ever faithful shadow, the Hound.

Theon raised his brows at the royal child's statement, "And how would you know both Bran and prince Tommen will fail, Your Highness?" The prickish blonde's mouth curled into a sneer at the Ironborn's quip.

"For one you should hold your tongue, pirate savage," Robb grabbed his friend's arm to prevent him from strangling the prince. "And Tommen's arms are too fat to even hold the bow correctly."

Bran watched as his friend's face became sadder as he dropped his bow to the ground. He walked up to Tommen and rubbed his back while glaring at his friend's older brother. While he was annoyed when Arya poked fun at him, it was all in good fun. Joffrey's behavior to his brother was cruel and bordering on evil.

"Can _you_ even hold a bow correctly?" Everyone snapped their heads towards the voice to see Arya glowering at the blonde boy. The giant of a man next to the small girl lightly smirked at her attitude towards the prince, but returned to his stoic visage when he caught the prince's murderous glare directed at the young girl.

"Arya! Why are you always such a little beast!" Joffrey's anger melted as he watched his betrothed's outburst at her sister. The girls stared each other down before Arya spat at her sister's feet and stormed away. Sansa's anger dissipated when her fiance took her hand and led her away from the training yard with the quiet Clegane following them.

Tommen watched his brother leave the yard before he leaned over to Bran, "Remind me to thank Arya later." Bran nodded his head at his friend while Theon and Robb laughed at the little prince's whisper.

While the four nobles left in the yard resumed their small archery lesson, Jon stood in his father's solar lost in his own mind. He could not comprehend why Edric would willingly leave his entire house's future in the hands of himself and Myria, well actually he could completely understand Myria. She was raised as a noble woman her whole life, she was made for the life she had. Jon was raised as a bastard, to help his brother when he comes into his own noble title when their father passes. Maybe at the most become Winterfell's next Master-at-Arms.

He had not foreseen the past weeks events, but he was grateful to the Gods for blessing him with a beautiful and kind wife. He still did not understand how he deserved all the rest he had been gifted with and frankly felt undeserving of his new title as a Stark. Some part of it just did not sit correctly with him.

"Jon, something on your mind?" He came out of his mess of thoughts to see his father sitting at his desk with a large rectangular chest sitting on it.

He smiled at his father and sat in one of the two seats opposite of his own, "Just trying to process everything that's happened as of late."

Ned returned Jon's smile and let out a slight chuckle, his mirth clear on his face, "What Edric said this morning spooked you a tad, eh?" Jon's face betrayed his agreement to his father's words. "Well, there's nothing wrong with Edric's decision. He obviously trusts yourself and Myria more than others in his family."

"Father, no disrespect, but I have lived my whole life as a bastard, a nobody. I have no idea how to be a Lord or run a house," He shook his head and let it rest in his hands. "That's stuff Robb was born to do, not myself."

Ned stood from his seat and walked around his desk to sit on the edge of it by Jon, "Jon , I know you feel like you are not worthy of all you've received the past week, but I know you are." He lifted his arm and placed his hand onto Jon's shoulder.

"I think it's time I told you about your mother."

Jon's head shot up at his words, "My mother?"

"Aye," Ned got up and walked back around his desk to stand in front of the chest once again. "I wanted to wait longer, til you were a bit older." Jon listened as Ned started to unlock the sides of the box. "But something is coming, I can feel it. I want you to be prepared for anything that may come your way, Jon."

Ned creaked open the lid of the chest and both men were greeted by the smell of old parchment and leather. Jon peered into it and caught the sight of a small book, scrolls of parchment, and raven's letters. He also noticed a slightly smaller chest nestled securely inside of the bigger one, safely wrapped in all of the parchment. The last thing to draw his eye was a small knitted blanket of gray and red wool folded in the corner.

"What's all of this?" He asked his father.

"This," he gestured to the whole crate. "Is all of your mother's possessions she had with her when I found her with you 17 years ago." He stared at Jon with a piercing look. "In the Tower of Joy."

Jon quirked his brows at Ned.

"The Tower of Joy? But that's where you found...Aunt Lyanna." He watched as Ned's face became wrought with sadness and guilt. He waited for an answer, but watched as his father turned and walked towards the window, peering out of it with a pensive glimmer in his eye. He instead went back to the chest, picking up the worn book and flipping it open, hoping to find some insight on whatever the hell was going on.

_Ever since the tourney at Harrenhal I have been haunted by his face, his words, his smile. Clara wasn't lying when she said any woman could fall for the Silver Prince's charm. But I wonder if she knows about his sadness as well. He's good at hiding it, but I could see it as bright as day. Perhaps because we both are cut from the same cloth, forced to marry someone we have no love for to better our own families. Everyone acts like he and Elia are happy with their life and children, but then why does the princess barely even speak to her husband? Why did he give me the crown of winter roses? Perhaps I should just keep my head down and marry Robert, even though he disgusts me. Does Ned even notice how his 'dear' friend treats women? I doubt it._

Jon flipped to another page as a new side of history was presented to him.

_He came for me, And I went with him! By the Old Gods what was I thinking? Running off with the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms!? But the thought of staying forever trapped in Winterfell and then Storm's End terrified me. Why is it women have no choice in the path of their own life? So I left, and Rhaegar is so happy. He's been smiling the whole time. He didn't let many come with us, since he wants to keep us a secret for now, but he said Arthur and Clara would join us soon. Once she gives birth to her child. I hope she has a girl, she's always wanted one. _

Another page turned.

_I'm married, and to the love of my life. Rhaegar had the Grand Maester annul his and Elia's marriage and took me for his new wife. I am a princess, if Ned could see me now he would laugh at that fact. I always claimed I never wanted to be a lady, well I suppose I'm not a lady anymore. Clara and Arthur were our witnesses along with little Ria. She was born less than a fortnight ago in King's Landing and she is the happiest child I've ever laid eyes on. Clara named me her Godmother, a tradition from the Seven's confusing faith, but I am honored nonetheless. We are staying in Dorne for a while to wait out the King's anger at the annulled marriage. I hope the King doesn't blame my family for my choice, but his mind was lost to madness long ago._

And another.

_Clara knitted me a beautiful blanket for the baby, hues of grey and red to reflect both house Stark and Targaryen. Ria loves putting her hands on my stomach to get a rise out of my little dragon. Arthur and Rhaegar joked they would have another generation of Dayne and Tarygaryen friendship. I believe it will be a boy, a perfect little prince. And a perfect match for my sweet little star. _

Finally he reached the final entry with shaking hands and noticed the change in handwriting.

_Eddard arrived to retrieve Lyanna, but he was too late. The pregnancy was too much for her body to withstand, but at least she passed with her favorite brother by her side and the false knowledge that her husband still lived. However I am well aware of my dear Arthur's passing, I can see his body strewn across the ground through the window. Eddard claimed Myria and myself would be safe because of who my brother is, but I am no fool. Robert's rage is as volatile as wildfyre, my older brother will be unable to protect me from his seething anger. Hopefully Jon can protect Myria, she is his niece after all. I hope the Stark can protect her son, but I am not hopeful. Practically a carbon copy of her older brother, Brandon. Dark hair and grey eyes, but he has Rhaegar's soft smile. Maybe Robert will spare his love's son. We can only pray the Gods will protect our children. I hope they will also forgive me for my own choice, but it's the only way. I love my little shooting star, and I hope she grows up knowing her parents did everything to protect her. _

Jon dropped the book in shock. Ned glanced back at him before muttering, "She made me promise." Jon slowly craned his head to him.

"Promise what?"

The Lord of Winterfell sighed before stepping away from the window to stand by the man he raised as his son, "She knew Robert would've wanted you dead," Jon shakily inhaled. "So she made me promise to protect you, to lie. So I did."

Jon stumbled into the chair behind him, "So I...I'm not your son?" He watched as the man he had called father solemnly shake his head. "That means I'm…."

"Lyanna and Rhaegar's son? Yes you are, Jon." The younger man became slightly green and he watched as Jon turned to throw up on the ground. "I told everyone you were my bastard to keep you safe."

Jon closed his eyes as he tried to push back another wave of nausea, "You didn't even tell your wife, you made Lady Catelyn think you betrayed her to protect me?"

"Yes."

He took in a deep breath and opened his eyes, "Does anyone else know?"

Ned sat down in his chair, "The only people who knew back then was myself, Howland Reed, and Jon Arryn. Since Jon's passing it's only Lord Reed and I." Jon nodded his head. It was known by everyone in the North that Howland Reed road south with Eddard Stark to save Lyanna from her prison in Dorne, but they came back empty handed. Or at least everyone thought they did.

"So my whole life has been a lie, is my name even Jon?"

Ned shrugged his shoulders, "Yes, at least that's what Lyanna and Clara called you. Your full name is Jaehaerys Targaryen, third of his name. By the line of succession you would be the next in line for the throne of Westeros."

Instead of responding to his father's...uncle's? information he turned his eyes back down to the chest and began to shuffle through the other items. There were countless raven's letters from Lyanna to Rhaegar, Rhaegar to Lyanna, as well as all of the ones shared between Myria's mother, Clara. Any one of them enough evidence to prove the story of Lyanna being kidnapped a lie to the whole Realm, but instead they stayed locked away in a chest protected by Lyanna's favorite brother. Jon picked up the folded fabric, feeling the softness of the blanket that was made for his birth. As he unfolded the blanket a loud clang caught his attention. He looked toward the sound to see a pouch that was cleverly wrapped inside of the wool.

He poured out the contents of the pouch to be met with countless pieces of jewelry ranging from rings to a small tiara inlaid with sapphires and rubies. He passed his hand over each of the priceless objects he was certain his mother had worn. He craned his neck as Ned reached his hand into the chest and pulled out a handful of papers along with the smaller chest. He passed the papers to Jon as he pulled open one of this desk drawers.

Jon scanned over the papers: an official annulment between Princess Elia Martell and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, A marriage certificate for Lady Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen signed by witnesses Arthur Dayne and Clara Dayne, and a signed betrothal agreement between Lord Arthur Dayne and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen for their children Myria Dayne and the unborn Targaryen heir; providing the child was male.

Jon almost laughed at the irony, he ended up betrothed to the same woman twice. As if the Gods willed them together one way or another. He glanced up again at the sound of a key entering a lock, and watched as his apparent uncle pushed the smaller box his way.

"I've never opened it. Lyanna said it was a name day gift from your father. He brought it before he went off to fight at the Trident." Jon slowly placed his hand on the lid and pushed it open. The inside of the box was lined with black velvet and sitting on the blanket were...three rocks? He picked up one of the strange objects to observe it better. It snugly sat in his palm, the feel of it was scaly like a fish,and there a peculiar warmth radiating from the stone. The one he was holding was jet black with red highlights, while the other two were a cream color tinged with blue and a pale green shimmering with silver.

Jon could only think of one thing they could be: Dragon eggs.


	12. Chapter 12

Myria was startled out of her sleep from a shift on the other side of the bed. She lifted her head up to see Jon trying to slip silently under the covers. She rolled over once Jon was laying down and placed her head on his chest.

"You okay?" Jon glanced down at his wife.

"Yeah, just had a hard conversation earlier." He whispered while wrapping his arm around her waist.

She threw her arm over his torso, nodding her head at his words, "So did I."

Jon raised his eyebrows, "What hard conversation did you have?" The Dornish woman sighed, rolled out of his arms, and climbed out of bed. "Myria you didn't have to get out of bed," She just waved him off and shuffled over to the desk against the wall, picking up the sheathed sword sitting on the table Jon had missed when he entered the room. She walked over to the fireplace and stoked the embers to lighten the room more before turning back to her husband sitting up on the bed. He watched with intrigue in his eyes as his wife pulled the large sword from the sheath, squinting his eyes as the weapon washed the room with a piercing white light.

Once his eyes adjusted he was met with the sight of Myria wielding a magnificently crafted white sword with a light blue streak shining in the middle of the blade. He rose from the bed as she lightly swung the sword around, "Is that?"

"Yes." At her whisper he carefully grabbed the sacred sword of house Dayne from her hands. The moment she released her hands from the hilt the light from the blade suddenly dimmed and disappeared completely. Jon examined the sword with vigor, peering at every little crevice of the delicately made weapon. "Edric brought it with him," Grey eyes met purple ones. "I'm the new Sword of the Morning."

Jon smiled at his wife, passed her family's sword back to her, and became even more captivated as the sword regained its glow when she touched it once more. She quickly slipped Dawn back into its sheath and carefully placed it back onto the desk.

"I find it funny that a Stark is now the next Sword of the Morning," She attempted to jest with her husband, but caught a flinch coming from him. She stepped over to him and placed her hand on his arm, concerned gaze turned upwards to him, "What is it Jon?"

"Technically the new Sword of the Morning is a Targaryen." Jon squeezed his eyes shut after his confession expecting anger from Myria, but instead was met with light giggles coming from her.

She tried to lessen her laughing when she noticed the slightly disappointed look on Jon's face, "Sorry, that's very funny Jon," He shook his head at her and walked over to the other side of the room where a large chest was sitting by the wall. "I would only be a Targaryen if I married one. Just because I have purple eyes does not mean I am one."

She stopped her laughing when Jon came back to her holding multiple pieces of paper, she held out her hand and he passed them to her. She shuffled through them as she read the words slowly becoming more pale as each word passed her eye. She passed them back to Jon with a blank look on her face, and once they were safely back in his hand she collapsed to the ground.

Jon threw the papers to the ground as he dove for his wife, catching her body before she hit the cobblestone floor. He swept her up in his arms and carried her to their bed, gently laying her on top of the covers. He eyed her face as her eyes caught his, astoundment reflecting back in them.

"You're a Targaryen."

Jon gulped, "Yes."

"You're a prince."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Our mothers wanted to marry us when I was a baby and you weren't even born yet!?" Jon seemed surprised that fact upset her the most. "I mean, I'm not complaining Jon, you're wonderful." He smiled. "But honestly? That's just the biggest joke in all of the Seven Kingdoms."

He smiled at his wife, "That's what I thought when I read the agreement." The pair looked at each other and burst into laughter. He fell back onto the bed and she crawled over to lay next to him, giggling at the irony.

"King Robert was at a Targaryen royal wedding! Oh Gods, that's just the icing on the bloody cake!" Jon's laughter slowly subsided and he smirked at his wife giggling away. She looked up at him beaming and she felt a feeling of contentment she had never felt before.

Jon sat up and leaned over to pull her up as well, "So you're not mad I'm a Targaryen?"

"A flower can't choose where it blooms, Jon," She pulled him into a tight hug, stroking his hair. "I'm glad you told me though."

She pulled out of the hug, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, "No other skeletons in your closet?" She opened her eyes to see him nodding his head 'yes'. She hopped off the bed and picked up the dropped documents. When she turned back to Jon she found him sitting by the chest he pulled the papers from in the first place. Myria brought them to him and he opened the chest, placed them inside, and pulled out a pouch along with a smaller chest.

He handed the pouch to her gently, "These were my mother's. I think she wouldn't mind my wife wearing them now." Myria seemed confused until he opened the pouch to reveal the cache of gem riddle jewelry. He smirked as his wife's eyes almost popped out of her head as she pulled a necklace littered with orange topazes out of the bag.

"Oh, Jon. I can't. These are far too precious."

He shrugged his shoulders, "I'm sure Lyanna would've wanted her Goddaughter to have them anyway." Before she could ask what he meant he passed his mother's diary to her and allowed her to read each passage.

By the end she had a yearning expression etched on her face, "Our parents truly cared for us, don't you think?"

"Considering my parents started a war, I am a tad skeptical with them," He grabbed Myria's hand. "Your parents though, they truly loved each other. If I can even halfway measure up to how your father treated your mother then I could die a happy man."

She brought her other hand up to the side of his face, "You already do Jon. To trust me with this secret shows how much you care."

She was about to place her lips upon his own when he muttered, "One more secret."

"Seven Hells, Jon," Myria huffed and threw her arms up in the air. "You carry more secrets than Varys does, don't you?" She calmed herself down enough to see Jon holding a scaled stone in one hand while handing her a different one in his other. She lightly took the stone and was shocked to be met with the same mystical warmth she felt from Dawn. She noticed how Jon almost cradled the black one he held, and she gently caressed the cream colored one she had been bestowed with. She waited as Jon placed the black one back into the velvet laden box before passing back the other one.

"I think this is the best secret."

With her final sentence she pulled her husband back to bed to rest for the night. As Jon felt her snuggle up to his side he let his eyes flutter shut and fell into a peaceful sleep.

Slobbery licks against his hand woke Jon the next day, "Shove off, Ghost." The albino direwolf pup ignored his master and instead began to lick the arm of the small woman tucked into bed with him. Myria giggled as the warm dog-like tongue brought her out of her sleep. Her purple eyes matched up with piercing ruby orbs. Maintaining eye contact, Myria lifted her hand and lightly patted Ghost on the head. The direwolf whined, gave his master one last glance, and strode away to lay by the fireplace.

"Sorry about him," Myria got up from bed after giving Jon a quick peck.

"Nothing to be sorry about, he's cute."

Jon smirked at his sweet wife's words and as he dressed simply for the day Willow entered and helped Myria lace up her blue and grey long sleeved dress. Once she was prepared for the day, Myria looped arms with Willow and stepped towards the door, "Willow and I are going to head to eat," She was halfway out the door when she turned back to Jon. "If I remember correctly you and the other men have a hunt to go on later today."

Jon groaned at her words, but listened to her giggling until she had walked further than his ears could catch. He finished dressing, called for Ghost, and followed after his cheeky wife. He quickly caught up to the women and he along with Ghost happily followed after them, occasionally chiming in on their conversation. The trio entered the Feast Hall and much like yesterday was greeted with the family conversing over food, the only thing missing from the table was Edric's wondrous tales being regaled to the children.

Instead in his place sat the small Prince Tommen who instantly brightened when he noticed his favorite friend, "My!" The woman in question smiled at the fawn and strode around to sit next to him, scooping little Rickon into her lap as she placed herself in the tiny wolf's seat. The auburn boy was quite pleased to have a comfy chair and let the Dornish woman do as she pleased. Willow and Jon chuckled at the sight and Jon took his normal seat next to Lord Stark while the handmaiden placed herself at a nearby table with Sansa's handmaiden, Jenny Poole.

"Good morning, Tommen. How is my favorite prince?" The blonde boy beamed at her question.

"Mother let me eat with Bran and we are going on an adventure today!"

Myria glanced at the 10 year old boy and caught him shoving off Arya's arm while attempting to nod his head in agreement, "Well that sounds wonderful, are Arya and Rickon going as well?"

The girl in question sneered at her younger brother, "These sods say it's 'boys only'."

"Arya!" The girl huffed at her mother's scolding tone. Instead of upsetting her mother more she turned to Sansa to try and have a 'civil' conversation. Myria's attention got pulled downward by Rickon tugging on her dress.

He waved his hand to bring her ear closer to him and lightly whispered, "I'm playing with Shaggydog, Bran says I'm too little." She gave the boy a gentle smile and wrapped her right arm around his shoulders as they both began to nibble on their food.

After everyone rotated through idle conversation Rickon hopped off of Myria's lap and followed his mother out of the hall, Arya once again got dragged away by Sansa, Little Tommen and Bran shot out of the room to play, leaving Robb, Theon, Jon, and Eddard to their meals. The three younger men conversed about the upcoming hunt while Myria moved closer to the four males remaining.

Ned gave a slight smile at her movement, "Good morning, Myria. How are you faring today?"

"Quite well," She settled into the open space next to Jon, across from Theon. "How are you Lord Stark?"

"Good enough," He spoke over his son's and ward. "I was wondering if I could have a word with you before I left for the hunt with the King?" He waited for an answer, but instead watched as Myria raised from her seat and walked towards him.

"Since I know you have to leave for the hunt soon we could take a turn in the famous glass garden I've heard so much about." Ned nodded his head, got up from his seat, and offered his arm for his daughter-in-law. The woman swiftly took if, waved to Jon, and followed the Lord of Winterfell out of the room. The pair remained in comfortable silence as they passed through the Keep, quickly reaching the glass pane doors to the garden.

Ned held open one of the doors for Myria, "We've had this garden for over 7 generations. The underground hot springs keep it quite warm." The Dornish woman beamed as she was hit with a large gust of heat rather akin to a summer breeze from Blackwater Bay. She observed the plants growing in the room, all potted in large rectangular dirt beds. "We mainly use the garden to grow vegetables and fruits in the winters," She glanced at the rows of tomatoes, peppers, lettuce, cucumbers, raspberries, strawberries, a small lemon tree, and the oranges her cousin had complained about the past day. Summer foods that would normally wither in the Northern chill.

"Any flowers?" She quipped while they continued through the rows toward a small stone bench near one of the corners of the room. Once they reached the bench Ned offered the seat for her and pointed his hand to a small bush to the left of the bench. Myria smiled at the small pale blue roses sprouting from the bush.

"Only winter roses I'm afraid. All other flowers have failed to thrive here."

She absently nodded her head while plucking one of the buds from the bush placing it in the side of her loose hair tucked behind her ear, "Your sister's favorite if I'm not mistaken?" Ned tensed at her words, but tilted his head in conformation. Myria smirked, "A true Northern beauty, just like your own daughter," She matched her purple eyes with his dark grey. "Ironically both females fit for a prince, don't you think?"

Ned sighed, "I assume Jon told you then?"

She shook her head, "He showed me." Before Lord Stark could open his mouth again she rose to her feet and swiftly approached the northern man, "No need to worry, it's his story to tell," She linked her arm to his again. "Not mine."

Eddard's face relaxed and he led her out of the gardens and towards the training yard, "Thank you, my Lady." The pair then spent the rest of their walk engaged in small talk, separating when they reached the training yard. Lord Stark slightly bowed to the woman before heading to his already saddled horse next to the King's own. Myria stayed by the doorway, covering her mouth as King Robert tried to throw himself onto his horse.

"Poor horse, don't you think?" Myria shot her head around to see the golden lion himself, Jaime Lannister, smirking at the King's attempt.

She scoffed, "Where have you been lurking, Jaime?" The kingsguard shrugged his shoulders, and tossed a small parcel at the Lady. She flung her hands out to catch it and held it at arm's length, as if she was worried it would explode.

"Oh come on, Tyrion was the one who gave you that stink bomb, not me!" She raised her eyebrows at her snarky friend. "It's a wedding gift, completely harmless." She huffed, but began to unwrap the cloth and caught the sight of an old rusted key. She gave Jaime a confused look, "It was something your father always wore. Never knew why, but I thought you would like a piece of him here with you."

"Thank you, Jaime. How considerate of you." She smiled at the small metal object. Her friend swaggered over to her and threw his arm around her shoulders.

"You know me, 'Mr. Considerate' right here," He smiled when she snorted slightly at his quip.

She attempted to compose herself, "Are you heading out on the hunt?"

He shook his head, "The King wants at least one of the kingsguard to stay and watch the younger prince and princess, so I volunteered." Myria acknowledged his answer before watching her husband and Robb hop onto side by side horses. She waved at the Stark pair and both men smiled while waving back at the small Dornish woman.

The large group of men in the yard startled at the loud cry of the king, "Come on boys, Let's go kill some boar!" The man finally upon his horse and taking off through the gates, Lord Stark following him along with the brunt of the kingsguard. The rest of the men accompanying the hunt took off after the main procession. Myria watched until the group was farther than her eyesight could catch and turned back to Jaime. But the man had left, perhaps when the rest of the men road out.

While Myria looked around the yard for her friend, another pair of friends clambered around outside the main yard of Winterfell. "Come on Tommen, it will be fun!" Bran pulled his friend by his arm towards the side of the stable, pointing to the top of the ramparts.

"I don't know," The prince followed his friend's gaze upwards. "I've never tried climbing before."

Bran tugged him close to the wooden post gesturing to the small hooks and nails in the wood, "Look I picked an easy one. Lots of footholds and things to grab," He swung his own foot up to show the 9 year old how easy it was. "I'll climb up first to show you where to climb, okay?" The timid prince gulped, but nodded his head at the auburn boy. Bran quickly slipped his foot into one of the holds and started his way up. Tommen steeled his nerves and slowly followed after his friend. Both safely reached the roof of the stables and the blonde laughed at the view they got of the yard.

Bran turned around and latched onto the stone wall of the ramparts, about to climb higher when Tommen's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Can't we stay here, the view is wonderful."

The wolf boy shook his head, "View up there is even better, we can see for miles!" The fawn inhaled and let go of his friend's shoulder. Bran smirked at him before turning around and continuing his climbing. Tommen carefully followed him up, freezing for a moment when he slipped on one of the loose stones. Bran quickly pointed out a safer ledge and the other boy swung his leg around to it, continuing his ascent. Bran flung himself over the side of the roof, pulling his legs over. He then reached his arm out and helped pull Tommen over as well.

Both boys crouched and panted for a moment before Bran pulled Tommen to the edge of the roof above the ramparts, catching the hunting party riding over the hills away from the castle. The pair gazed in awe at the picturesque view of the northern hills, fir trees scattering the landscape.

"It's amazing," Tommen whispered.

Bran watched their fathers ride out of sight, "Yeah." He looked around and glanced back at the Keep when one of the high towers drew his eye. "There's another area that's an even better climb."

The prince twisted his head to stare at his friend, "Where?"

Bran held his hand up and Tommen followed his finger to the remnants of a tall tower off to the side of the Keep.

"The Broken Tower."

Green eyes met dark blue and the two scrambled down the walls to reach the ground. Bran jumped off of the stable roof and waited for Tommen to slowly climb down. They grasped hands and shot off towards the old building hoping to reach it without anyone questioning them. They squeezed their way through the people milling about in the yard, waving at Myria and Myrcella as they ran past the females separately. The princess laughed at her brother and Myria yelled for the two to be careful. As they continued their prolonged sprint, Summer barked at his master and jumped behind them joining the fun.

The boys skidded to a stop with the direwolf pup hitting the back of Bran's legs sending him forward into the grass. The younger boy laughed at his dirt covered friend and Summer attacked his master's face, peppering it with licks and slobber. Tommen helped him from the ground and the two glanced up at the new found challenge.

The tower was the highest one in Winterfell standing over all of the walls. In its prime it was a testament to the might of the Northern Kingdom, but after the fire many of the inner rooms were long destroyed. The integrity of the outer walls, even though they were riddled with ivy, still held strong and the cobblestone they were built with was staggered well enough to provide many footholds.

Bran led the climbing at the foot of the tower and once he was a fourth of the way up Tommen began to follow him. Summer whined at the boys as they climbed higher and higher. Halfway up the Stark boy leaned up to a wooden beam, latched on, and climbed around the tower out of Tommen's sight. The younger boy attempted to speed up his pace, but he was not as fast as his counterpart. Instead he found another path in the stone and followed Bran's right way climb, catching sight of Bran leaning into a window about twenty feet above him. Tommen glanced down at the ground when he heard louder whimpering and watched as Summer paced around below.

A voice suddenly caught the small prince's attention, "The things I do for love."

Tommen threw his gaze upwards when he heard a scream and saw Bran falling towards him. He quickly grabbed tight to a piece of ivy with his left hand and swung his right hand out, catching the Stark's own hand. Bran's sudden drop plus his weight jerked the blonde boy forward, almost forcing him to let go of the ivy.

"Hang on Bran!" The older boy nodded his head and attempted to find a foothold he could grab onto to even out the weight the smaller boy was holding up.

"I can't find a foothold!"

Tommen shot his eyes around trying to eye a ledge his friend could use, but he gasped as he felt Bran's hand slowly slip out of his own. He tried to pull him up, but when he did he felt the ivy he was still clinging to loosen from the stone. Both children screamed out when they dropped a few feet as the ivy semi-dislodged from the tower.

"Tommen! Let go of me!"

"Are you crazy!?" As Tommen yelled at his friend he swore he could hear a voice yell out his name. He prayed someone had seen the boys dangling and would come help. Before either boy could think of a new idea or utter another word the ivy shifted once more.

The sudden movement caused Bran's hand to slip out of Tommen's and the prince cried out as his friend fell, tearing up when he heard his body smash to the dirt.

"Bran? Bran!"


	13. Chapter 13

Tyrion Lannister cracked his eyes open at the sound of roosters crowing and dogs howling. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up, squinting at the masses of fur lying around him. He felt a tongue on his cheek and patted the dog lying next to him. It had been nearly a month since the royal court arrived in Winterfell and he still found himself in the strangest of places after blacking out from drinking too much.

"Better looking bitches than you're used to uncle." Tyrion grimaced at the voice of his "beloved" nephew, Joffrey. He quickly jumped from his place in the hay, brushed himself off, and turned to greet the prince and the Clegane following him. "My mother's been looking for you. We ride for King's Landing today."

Tyrion nodded his head while stumbling into the wall of the stable, head pains stabbing into his skull. He righted himself and pointed to the boy, "Before you go you will call on Lady and Lord Stark and express your sympathies."

The boy scoffed, "What good will my sympathies do them?" His uncle rolled his eyes and swung the gate open, stepping out to face the blonde man-child.

"None. But it is expected of you," He pointed at the prince. "Your absence has already been noted."

Joffrey shrugged, "The boy might be Tommen's little friend, but he means nothing to me," He turned and smirked at his guard. "And I can't stand the wailing of women." When he turned back to his uncle he was met with a harsh slap to the face. He let out a girlish cry, bending to hold his throbbing cheek.

"One word and I'll hit you again."

"I'm telling mother-" His sentence cut off by his uncle's hand landing on his face again with a sharp and proper 'Slap!'.

Tyrion gazed at the boy, "Go, tell her," He held up his hand. "But first you will go to Lord and Lady Stark, fall on your knees, and tell the how very sorry you are. That you are at their service and all of your prayers are with them," He raised his brow. "Do you understand?"

"You can't-" Once again Joffrey's words are silenced by yet another hit to his face.

"Do you understand?"

The prince nodded his head and quickly strode away, leaving the Imp alone with the Hound. Sandor shrugged his shoulders while glancing at the Lannister, "The prince will remember that, little Lord."

Tyrion smirked up at the scarred man, "I hope so," He gestured to the man. "If he does be a good dog and remind him." The dwarf then turned on his heel and walked into the Keep.

"Ah, time for breakfast."

The small man strode into the mostly empty Feast Hall and made his way to the single table left with people, his family. He called at a serving maid who walked by him, "Bread and two of those little fish, and a mug of dark beer to wash it down." He approached the high table and scooted into the bench next to his older brother. "And bacon burnt black."

Jaime smirked at his sibling, "Little brother."

"Beloved siblings," He smirked as Cersei awarded him with a slight quirk of her lips while Myrcella beamed at her favorite uncle from next to her mother. He returned the girl's smile while grabbing a bowl full of potatoes, scoping the mash onto his plate. He scanned the rest of the table and frowned when he noticed the youngest prince's absence.

Myrcella shifted in her seat, "Is Bran going to die?"

"Apparently not." Cersei straightened herself at Tyrion's words.

The mother kept a blank look on her face, "What do you mean?"

Her brother reached for a drink, "The Maester says the boy may live."

Unnoticed by the two younger blondes at the table, the twins shared a look with each other. Cersei's face became contemplative as she glanced back at the dwarf, "It's no mercy to let a child linger in such pain."

Tyrion shrugged his shoulders, "Only the Gods know for certain, all the rest of us can do is pray." He cut into his food, "The charms of the North seem entirely lost on you."

The Queen shrugged tightening her silk shawl around her arms, "Still can't believe you're going. It's ridiculous even for you."

"Where's your sense of wonder?" He exclaimed at his stubborn sister. "The greatest structure ever built. The intrepid men of the Night's Watch," He leaned towards the princess and waved his arms in a mystical way. "The wintry abode of the White Walkers!" The girl giggled at her uncle's jest while her mother remained stone faced.

"Tell me your not thinking of taking the Black." Jaime joked with his brother.

Tyrion gave his older brother a surprised look, "And go celibate? The whores would go begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock," He shook his head. "No I just want to stand at the edge of the Wall and piss off the edge of the world." Myrcella laughed at his words and her mother sneered.

"Children don't need to hear your filth."

Tyrion raised his brows and glanced around the room, "Seems you're a child short today sister," He leaned toward Cersei. "Tell me, where is dear Tommen?" The Queen glared at her brother, grabbed her daughter's hand, and left the room.

Jaime sighed as he watched the two females leave. Tyrion seemed to carry a face of false alarm, "Just a question. Nothing of harm."

"Tommen hasn't left the boy's side, blames himself for some reason." Jaime stared at the table for a moment before lifting his head again with his trademark smug smile, "Even if the boy lives, he would be misshapen and grotesque." He picked up his drink to take a swig, "Give me a good, clean death any day."

"Speaking for the grotesques, I'd have to disagree. Death is so final whereas life is full of possibilities." Tyrion shuffled his food around his plate. "If the boy does wake I will be very interested in what he has to say."

Jaime glared lightly at his brother, "My dear brother, sometimes I wonder whose side you are on."

"My dear brother you wound me," Tyrion glanced at Jaime. "You know how much I love my family." The brothers settled into a tense silence as they finished their meals.

On the other side of the Keep Lady Catelyn sat by her injured son's side, weaving a prayer wheel out of a handful of small sticks. She glanced to the opposite side of the bed to see the blonde prince still sitting by his friend's side, holding his hand while silent tears drifted down his cheeks. She pitied the little Baratheon, having to watch his friend fall and be unable to help him. But a small part of her deep down blamed the boy. If Bran had not been so eager to impress then maybe he would not have climbed the wretched tower in the first place. She pushed the damned thought from her mind. Even she knew her son would have climbed the tower eventually, he just couldn't help himself.

Instead she attempted to focus on the wheel she wove, but heeled footsteps broke her concentration and she watched as the Queen strode into the room. The auburn woman quickly stood for the royal woman, but she gestured for the Lady of Winterfell to remain seated. As the worn out woman returned to her seat the Lannister Lady made her way over to her own son, lightly rubbing his back. The boy did not respond to his mother's touch and instead kept his eyes fixed on his friend, praying for any movement at all.

Lady Catelyn watched the encounter, "I'm sorry Your Grace, I would've dressed."

The other woman shook her head, "This is your home and I am your guest." She looked over her son's shoulder to gaze at the comatose Stark child. "Handsome one isn't he?" She pet her son's blonde locks with a regretful look in her eye. "I lost my first boy, little black-haired beauty." She sighed. "He was a fighter too, tried to beat the fever that took him."

She caught Catelyn's sorrowful gaze and looked away, "Forgive me, it's the last thing you need to hear right now."

She shook her head at the Queen, "I never knew."

"It was years ago," She moved her eyes back to the bed ridden boy. "Robert was crazed. Beat his hands bloody on the wall." She scoffed, "All the things men do to show you they care."

"The boy looked just like him, such a little thing. A bird without feathers." She grasped Tommen's shoulders. "Then they came to take his body away, and Robert held me. I screamed and battled, but he held me." Cersei teared up thinking of the dark day. "Our little bundle, they took him away and I never saw him again. Never visited the Crypt, never."

Catelyn looked away from the quietly crying Queen, "I pray to the Mother every morning and night that she'll return your child to you."

She glanced back up at the regal woman, "I am grateful."

"Perhaps this time she'll listen."

The Queen then laid a kiss on her child's head and left the room. Tommen never once let his gaze leave his friend. Catelyn let her mind drift away in thought as she stared at the young boys. Her thoughts were interrupted by another set of footsteps entering through the open door. She glanced over to see Jon's new wife, Lady Myria, standing by the foot of the bed carrying a tray full of food.

"I brought something for you to eat, Catelyn." The older woman bowed her head slightly to the younger and listened as she placed the food down on a table in the room. She then shuffled over to Tommen, patting his blonde curls. "Tommen, would you like to go on a walk with me? I think some time outside might make you feel better."

Surprisingly the small boy nodded his head, squeezed his friend's hand, and stood from the seat he had occupied for many days. Myria extended her hand for the prince and he clasped onto it following her out of the room. He pair slowly meandered through the halls, passing people who offered their sympathies and such. The Dornish woman glanced down and frowned when she caught the look of ennui on the sweet fawn's face.

They entered the courtyard to see Jon speaking with the blacksmith, holding a small sword rather similar to Myria's own water dancing sword. She tugged on the prince's hand, but when he refused to move she simply scooped the small boy onto her hip and continued on her path. As she approached her husband Tommen laid his head into the crook of her neck and let his eyes flutter shut.

Jon smiled at the sight of his wife walking towards him with a child on her hip, but slightly frowned when he recognized the boy as prince Tommen. He gestured to the boy, "You allowed to hold him like that? Seems 'motherly'."

She smirked at the black haired Stark, "My whole purpose in King's Landing was a nanny and playmate of sorts for Myrcella and Tommen. It's not a shock to see me carrying one of them at all." He nodded his head and grasped the small sword his hands. "Is that for Arya?"

"How'd you know?"

She giggled, "the size. Much too small for you."

He blushed and fiddled with the handle of the blade, "Wanted my sister to have something to protect herself with down south." Myria shifted the boy in her arms while smiling at Jon.

"A wonderful gift," She claimed. "From a wonderful brother." He leaned over, pressed a slight kiss to her forehead, and went off to visit his little sister before she left. Myria continued to wander through the courtyard and inside of the Keep, when she passed through the hallway the glass garden was tucked away in. She slowly creaked the door open and slipped in with Tommen still balanced on her. She glided over to the small stone bench in the corner, laid the tied boy onto it, and placed herself onto the ground next to him.

She leaned over to pluck a handful of winter roses and slowly started to pick the thorns off of the stems. Myria was humming a song to herself when she heard Tommen's voice, "You sing that song when it rains, My." She tilted her head at the boys words. "Why are you singing it now?"

"You're sad and scared when it rains, and you are sad and scared now." The boy sat up while rubbing his eyes and nodding his head in agreement. She glanced at the boy and raised her eyebrows at the strange expression upon his face. "Something's bothering you."

"I heard a voice."

She began to twist the flower stems together, "A voice?"

Tommen breathed, "Right before Bran fell from the window, I caught him and I...I...I tried My. I swear I did, but it was so hard to hold on." She placed the flowers on the ground and wrapped her arms around the crying child. She stroked his back as he wailed into her chest.

"It's okay Tommen. I swear," She pulled him away from her torso, wiped his tears, and gave him a tender smile. "No one blames you. Not even Bran." He sniffled at his friend's name. "You did everything right my darling boy, but I have one tiny question."

He watched through blurry eyes as the Dornish woman picked up a small bunch of flowers she had been tying together and quirked his lips as she placed a small flower crown onto his blonde locks.

"What did the voice say? Can you remember?"

Tommen thought on the moment before his friend fell, but all he could see was the fear etched on the Stark boy's face, and all he could hear was their terrified screams. He closed his eyes and flinched as he attempted to recall any information.

"Something about love?" Myria gave the boy a sorrowful smile and wiped the fresh tears from his eyes. "I'm sure I can remember more, it hurts though."

She shook her head in disagreement, "No, no. It's fine my little fawn. You did wonderful." She kissed his forehead before standing from her kneeling position on the ground, grasping the rest of the roses as she went.

She held up another completed flower crown for the prince, "Would you like to go give this to Bran?" The child smiled and started to pull the woman back to Bran's chamber.

Once the pair had reached the open room the boy ran to his friend's side, smiling as he carefully placed the matching crown onto the wolf child. Lady Catelyn eyed the pair with confusion mixed with humor. "So we have something to remember each other by." The mother relaxed at the innocent gift and went back to her vigil by her son. Tommen leaned up to whisper something into his friend's ear before turning back to the Dornish woman watching by the doorway.

For the rest of the day the prince spent his time with Myria, from packing to leave all the way to when he had to enter the wheelhouse to head home to King's Landing. The fawn prince hugged his Dornish friend tightly, promising to write often. After he stepped away closer to the carriage his sister also gave her dear friend a bone crushing hug, trying to keep tears from her eyes as she wished the married woman well.

Myria watched the children leave with their mother into the royal wheelhouse with tearful eyes before approaching the Stark's wheelhouse to wish farewell to the girls she had begun to care dearly for. Sansa kept her proper facade, remaining prim as she wished her new sister-in-law well. Arya hugged Myria and asked if she could write a letter for her to her old instructor, Syrio Forel. The older woman laughed, but promised to get the feisty girl sword lessons as soon as possible.

Once both carriages were set to go the whole procession took off towards the gates of Winterfell, and the remaining occupants of the castle waved the long line off. Myria took a deep breath as she wandered to stand by Jon, lacing her fingers with his own. She glanced to his right to observe Robb and his mother wave off Lord Stark, and sighed at the sight of the depressed mother. She would have no choice, but to inform the now acting Lord of Winterfell what she found out. Someone was in that tower when the boys were climbing it, and based on what happened there was only one clear answer. The very thought of it made her want to gut a man.

The fall was no accident. Someone had pushed Bran Stark out of the window.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's note: Thank you all so much for your wonderful comments and reviews! I enjoy reading each one and seeing so many people pleased with my work is very humbling. **

Arya bloody hated traveling in the damned wheelhouse. Every day she had to put up with her sister and Jenny Poole's annoying chatter along with the Septa telling her to 'sit up straight' and 'smooth out your dress'. She wondered who could even care about one wrinkle in a 10 year old's dress? Apparently, by the fuss Septa Mordane, made it was the whole of the Seven Kingdoms. The only good thing that had come out of the weeks of travel was her friend, Mycah.

He was the son of the royal butcher, and while he was a bit weird at first the tall child had grown on the Stark girl. He listened to what she had to say instead of just acting like she should always keep her mouth shut, and he was fun to play with.

Speaking of Mycah, the moment the carriage stopped she needed to find him. She heard from her father that morning they would be stopping by the Ruby's Forge of the Trident river for the night. Since then she had been planning her and Mycah's escape to search for any of Rhaegar's rubies in the river's waters.

"Septa, Arya's daydreaming again." By the Seven Hells she wanted to wring Sansa's neck!

The pious woman frowned at the young lady, "Arya I know the travel can become dull, but please pay attention when someone is speaking to you," She turned towards the other Stark girl. "Take Sansa here for example: Poised, proper, and prim."

The brunette muttered, "More like prickish, prissy, and a pain."

The Septa ignored the girl's words, as usual, and continued to praise the redhead. Arya sighed and glanced out the window watching the birds flutter through the air. She felt a small nudge on her leg and smiled at Nymeria's nose nudges. She patted her wolf's head and let her eyes flutter shut, hoping to catch a nap until they stopped moving.

"Arya! Wake up!" Sansa yelled at her younger sister, and watched as she shot her head up. She scoffed at her sister's antics, swept up her dress's skirt, and carefully stepped out of the wheelhouse. She turned back around and lightly grasped Lady's leash to lead her gently out to the camp.

Arya grimaced at her sister's rude tone, but followed her out of the carriage with Nymeria following after her. She glanced around at the tall trees blowing in the wind and noticed groups of people setting up for lunch. She lead her wolf away from the other women's lunch area and sneaked around the camp until she caught sight of her father's cloak. She smiled and began to walk up to him when she noticed King Robert walking up to him as well. She quickly tucked herself behind a tree and spied on the pair of men as they met up and meandered to a small sitting area set up with food already plated. Her father quickly took his seat, but Robert took in the surrounding countryside.

"Gods, this is country!" He turned back to her father and placed himself across from him. "I have half a mind to leave them all behind and keep going."

"I have half a mind to go with you."

The King smirked, "What do you say? Just you and me on the Kings road, just our swords by our sides. Couple of tavern wenches to warm our beds?"

Ned sighed, "If you'd ask me 20 years ago," He laughed as Robert shook his head.

"There were wars to fight, women to marry. We never had the chance to be young."

The Quiet Wolf scratched his chin, "I recall a few chances." Robert raised his eyebrows at Ned before bursting out into joyful laughter. His friend chimed in and they enjoyed each other's mirth.

The King attempted his curb his laughter, "There was that one, what was her name?" He gestured to his table mate. "That common girl of yours...Becca! With the great big tits you could bury your face in." Arya snorted at the King's words, finding the fact he was so enamored by a woman quite comical.

Ned eyed his friend, "Bessie? She was one of yours."

"Bessie!" He royal man chuckled. "Thank the Gods for Bessie. And her tits." Both men spared a laugh. "Yours was Elena?" He shook his head. "No, you told me once...uh Myrrel?" He waved his hand at Ned, "Your bastard's mother." The young girl perked her ears up and leaned further away from her hiding place to catch their words better. Her father never, and she knew _never_, talked about Jon's mother. Whether it was too painful for him or her mother she didn't know, but she personally thought it was stupid. Why does her mother hate Jon for something her husband did?

"Wylla," Her father breathed out while avoiding the King's eyes, as if he was ashamed.

"That's it," Robert nodded his head. "Must of been a rare wench to make Lord Eddard Stark forget his honor, you never told me what she looked like."

"Nor will I."

The king gave his friend a sympathetic look, "We were at war. None of us knew if we were going to come back home again. You're too hard on yourself, you always have been." He shook his head. "I swear if I wasn't your King you would have hit me already."

"Worse thing about your coronation," He eyed Robert. "I'll never get to hit you again." Both men nodded their heads, and took a swig from their goblets. Contemplating the past and their old regrets.

"Trust me that's not the worst thing," The portly man pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment and passed it over to the Northern man. "A rider came in the night."

The Northern man read the hastily written words and shrugged his shoulders, "Daenerys Targaryen has wed some Dothraki horse lord, what of it?" He threw the note onto the table. "Should we send her a wedding gift?"

"A knife, perhaps a good sharp one. And a bold man to wield it."

"She's nothing more than a child, barely older than my own daughter."

The king shook his head, "Soon enough that child will spread her legs and start breeding."

The Northern Lord glared at his King, "tell me we are not speaking of this."

"Oh it's unspeakable to you!?" Arya watched as the royal man slowly became enraged. "What her father did to your family, that was unspeakable. What _Rhaegar Targaryen_ did to your sister, the woman I loved." He spat at the ground, "I'll kill every Targaryen I can get my hands on."

Ned tensed slightly, "You can't get your hands on this one can you?"

"This Khal Drogo...It's said he has over 100,000 men in his horde."

The Lord of Winterfell cut in on his friend, "Even 1,000,000 Dothraki aren't a threat to the Realm. As long as they remain on the other side of the Narrow Sea. They have no ships Robert."

However, his sound advice fell on deaf ears, "There are still those in the Seven Kingdoms who call me Usurper. A Targaryen boy crosses with a Dothraki horde at his back? The scum will join him."

Arya watched as her father attempted to sway the angered man's mind, "He will not cross. And if by chance he does we will throw him back into the sea." The men settled down and grabbed their cups, chugging their drinks down. Ned leaned back in his seat, but watched as Robert leaned closer to him.

"There's a war coming, Ned. I don't know when and I don't know who we'll be fighting, but it's coming." At those words Arya shot back from the tree she was hiding behind and ran towards the rest of the camp. Surely the King must be wrong, her father must see it. There's no reason for a war to come at all, so why state that one is on the horizon? Arya reached the open glade where her sister and the Septa were lightly chatting with Jenny Poole along with other handmaidens and bent over to catch her breath.

"Arya? Oh you're ripped your dress." The girl glanced down to see the small rip Septa Mordane pointed out. She scoffed, called Nymeria, and entered one of the tents near the chatting hens to change her clothes. She shot out of the tent after throwing on a pair of britches and a baggy tunic, sprinting past the boring women when they yelled after her.

The Stark child quickly reached the edge of the Trident, and dropped to the ground. Nymeria laid down placing her head on her mistress' lap.

"Arya, there you are!" She shot her head around to see Mycah ambling towards her with a large smile on his face.

"Mycah, thank the Gods!" She stood to greet her friend. "My sister and Septa have been torturing me."

The boy laughed, "Yeah, I figured. So ruby hunting?" She smirked at her friend, grasped his hand, and began to wade into the shallow waters.

While Arya enjoyed her time away from her stuffy sister, said sister decided to take her own direwolf for a stroll around the area. Lady dutifully followed her mistress through the small crowd of court members and guards. Sansa smiled at many ladies of the court as she approached the inn the royal family was staying in for the night.

She stopped and leaned down to stroke Lady's fur when a figure bumped into her. A man taller than any of her brothers or her father. No hair on the top of his head and a grim frown etched almost permanently onto his visage. He carried a sword strapped to his back, and wore all black. Sansa took a slight step away from the intimidating man hoping to avoid him when his eyes met hers. She froze as he seemed to see into her soul, and trembled while taking another step away from him.

"Pardon me, Ser," She murmured while glancing between his crazed eyes and the ground. She stepped back once more, but was stopped by a large hand on her left shoulder. She was turned around and came face to face with Joffrey's guard, Sandor Clegane. Her pale blue eyes met his deep brown and she shuddered lightly at the large scarring on the right side of his face.

The sworn sword scoffed, "Do I frighten you that much, little lady?" He smirked and gestured to the bald man still standing behind the Stark girl. "Or is it him that's making you shake?" The Hound shrugged his shoulders. "He scares me too, look at that face." The girl turned around to spare another glance at the silent man.

She gave the man a weak smile, "I'm sorry if I offended you, Ser," The man only bestowed the redhead a glare before leaving. "Why won't he talk to me?"

The tall man shrugged, "He hasn't been very talkative these last 20 years, since the Mad King had his tongue ripped out with hot pincers."

"Speaks damn well with his sword, however," Sansa smiled at the voice of her betrothed and turned to face the prince, missing the worried look on the burned man's face. "Ser Illyn Payne, the King's justice," She raised her eyebrows in confusion and Joffrey smirked while twisting his hand on the hilt of his sword, "The royal executioner."

His smirk widened at her frightened look, but he continued to play the part of the faithful fiance. "What is it sweetling? Does the Hound frighten you?" He sent a light glare to his guard, "Away with you dog, your scaring my lady." The man in question bowed towards the royal male before taking his leave.

"I don't like to see you upset," Sansa smiled and lightly blushed at his words. She imagined this was the way Myria felt when Jon spoke to her. "Sun's finally shining. Come walk with me."

The Northern girl eagerly nodded her head and quickly slipped her arm into Joffrey's before pausing and turning back to her direwolf, "Stay Lady." With her command the small wolf laid down right where she was sitting. After Lady was diligently listening to her mistress, the teen pair strode off to take a leisurely walk through the camp. They passed the Queen sitting down to eat with her other children, Myrcella waved at her brother and Sansa while Tommen kept his down and shuffled his food around the plate. Cersei eyed the Stark girl, but offered her a tight smile. The couple continued on after Joffrey and his mother shared pleasantries with each other.

The prince and Sansa shared small talk about idle gossip of the court as they passed through the treeline, wandering over to the edge of the river. When they reached the water's edge Joffrey opened the water skin by his hip and took a sip of the liquid inside.

He offered the skin to the younger girl, "Would my lady care for some wine?"

Sansa lightly shook her head, "My father only lets us have a single cup at feasts, I shouldn't." Joffrey scoffed and pushed the container into her hands.

"My princess can drink as much as she wants" He ran his hand over her cheek. "So you may do whatever you please, my lady." She felt a blush bloom past her ears, but took a small drink of the wine. She coughed slightly before offering the skin back to the prince, but he refused and motioned for her to continue to drink the heavy alcohol. Her smile flickered for a second before she continued to take small sips of wine, assuming small amounts would not bother her much while pleasing Joffrey.

The prince smirked at the noble woman as she slowly became inebriated, but the annoying sound of wood hitting wood disturbed his delicate temperaments and he scanned the area for the source of the racket. He narrowed his eyes when he caught Sansa's wild sister playing with a lump of a boy, the pair hitting each other with sticks in an attempt to act out swordplay. He observed how the small girl swung her leg out to catch the bigger boy's knees, sending him crashing to the ground.

The blonde boy craned his neck to catch their conversation, "That was awesome! Where did you learn that!?"

"Watched my sister-in-law, Myria Dayne, do it."

_Myria_. That woman's existence was a thorn in the prince's side. She was only 2 years older than him, but for some reason everyone growing up had adored her. The court ladies, his weak siblings, his uncles, his own bloody father! Perhaps he could give the Dornish swill a piece of his mind, he knew she had a soft spot for children.

He casually lead the slightly inebriated redhead over to where her sister was playing with a dark glint in his eye.

The Stark girl finally noticed the clanging of wood and gave the prince a small look of worry. He simply gave her a chivalrous smile and slipped back into his heroic mask, "Don't worry. You're safe with me." They walked closer to the sound and Sansa finally noticed her sister was the one creating trouble.

"Arya!" The brunette turned at her sister's yell and watched as she along with the older prince approached. While her back was turned Mycah hit her with his stick and she let out a small 'ow' before swinging back to face her sister.

"What are you doing here?" She sneered. "Go away."

The prince quirked his brow, "Your sister?" Sansa nodded. "And who are you, boy?" At the prince's question the butcher's son dropped his stick as his face became pale.

"Mycah, m'lord."

Sansa scoffed, "He's the butcher's boy."

"He's my friend," Arya spat at her sister.

"A butcher's boy who wants to be a knight, eh?" The tall lad blushed and glanced at the ground. Joffrey pulled his sword from its sheath, "Pick up your sword butcher's boy, lets see how good you are."

Mycah shook his head, "She asked me to, m'lord. She asked me to."

"I'm your prince, not your lord," He glared at the peasant boy. "And I said pick up your sword."

"It's not a sword, my prince. It's only a stick."

"And you're not a knight, only a butcher's boy." He smirked as ran the tip of his blade against the boy's cheek. "That was my lady's sister you were hitting, did you know that?"

"Stop it!"

"Arya, stay out of this!" Sansa grimaced at her sister while the younger Stark girl gave her a look of betrayal.

"I won't hurt him," The prince smiled at the younger male. "Much." The prince pushed the tip of his blade into Mycah's cheek and the boy flinched as the metal cut into his skin. Before Joffrey could harm the boy any further Arya raised her stick and hit him across the back. The moment the prince hit the ground Mycah took off into the woods to escape the deranged royal. Joffrey turned and began to swing his sword at Arya and the girl quickly jumped to avoid the sharp metal.

"Stop it, Stop it both of you!" Sansa cried as her sister continued to stay one jump ahead of many painful hits. "You're spoiling everything!" Arya's footing finally slipped and she fell to the ground with Joffrey's sword right in front of her face.

"I'll gut you, you little cunt!"

He threw the sword above his head and was about to jam it into the 10 year old's stomach when Nymeria jumped out of nowhere, latching onto the prince's hand. The prince screamed in agony and Arya flashed to pull her direwolf off of him. Once her wolf had retreated she grasped the boy's own sword, caught his fearful eye, and flung the blade deep into the Trident.

She and Nymeria then ran off into the woods, away from the chaos. Arya continued to sprint away until her lungs couldn't take the pressure anymore. The girl glanced around and tucked herself into a small crook of tree roots with her pet. They remained their for what seemed like forever, waiting in silence until she caught the sound of men nearby.

She hugged her direwolf and then started to push Nymeria away from her, "You've got to go. They'll kill you for what you did to Joffrey," The animal tilted her head at her mistress. "Go on, run." She refused to budge. "Go leave!" She still remained still and Arya panicked when she heard the voices coming closer. She closed her eyes until a solution popped into her head.

"Go home," Nymeria perked her ears. "Go home to Winterfell! Go now! Run home!" The direwolf finally turned on her heal and ran away from Arya and hopefully towards safety.

Not long after Arya was swept up by Lannister men and carried back to the inn. She was dropped in front of the King and Queen along with their dreadful son and most of the royal court. The young girl breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her father enter the room. Ned quickly scooped her into his arms and shushed her when she began to apologize.

"What is the meaning of this!?" He turned towards the King and Queen. "Why was my daughter not brought to me at once?"

Cersei scowled at the Northern lord, "How dare you speak to you King in that manner."

"Quiet woman," Robert started at his friend. "Sorry Ned, I never meant to frighten the girl. But we need to get this business done quickly."

"Your girl and that butcher's boy attacked my son," She gestured to Joffrey's wrapped hand. "That animal of hers nearly tore his arm off."

"That's not true!" Everyone in the room turned to the small girl. "She just bit him a little. He was hurting Mycah. He sliced open his cheek!"

The Queen shook her head, "Joff told us what happened. You and that boy beat him with clubs while you set your wolf on him."

"That's not what happened! We were playing and-"

"Yes it is!" The crown prince cut off the girl before she could finish her sentence. "They all attacked me and she threw my sword in the river."

"Liar!"

"Shut up!"

"Enough!" The king exclaimed. "He tells me one thing, she tells me another. Seven Hells what am I to make of this?" He shook his head. "Where your other daughter, Ned?"

"In bed, asleep."

The Queen smiled, "She's not. Sansa come here, darling." Ned shot his head around to see his older daughter stepping out of the crowd of observers to stand next to him.

"Now child," Robert gestured at her. "Tell me what happened, tell it all, and tell it true. It's a great crime to lie to a King." Sansa glanced between her father and her betrothed.

"Well, the prince and I were walking and we noticed Arya and Mycah playing…." She stopped her words when she caught the searing gaze of the Queen and gulped. "And...and the next thing I remember is the prince on the ground and Arya running away." She shook while looking at the ground. "It all happened so fast. I don't really remember."

"Liar!" Arya pulled her sister's hair. "Liar! Liar! Liar! Liar!" Ned pulled his younger daughter away from his older one.

Cersei smiled at the sight, "She's as wild as that animal of hers. I want her punished."

"What would you have me do? Whip her through the streets?" Robert rolled his eyes at his wife. "Damnit children fight, it's over."

"Joffrey will wear these scars for the rest of his life."

Robert stared at his son, "You let that little girl disarm you?" The crowd murmured at the king's words while he faced the Lord of Winterfell once again. "Ned, see to it that your daughter is disciplined, I'll do the same with my son." Ned nodded his head and began to usher his girls out of the inn when the Queen spoke up once more.

"And what of the direwolf? What of the beast that savaged your son?"

King Robert sighed, "I forgot about the damned wolf."

A Lannister guard spoke up from the front of the crowd, "We found no trace of the wolf, Your Grace."

" No? So be it."

"We have another wolf."

The bearded man sighed, "As you will." Before walking towards the door. The whole of the Stark family felt a chill run down their spines as they realized what Robert was going to allow happen.

"You can't mean it."

He turned to Ned, "A direwolf is no pet. Get her a dog, she'll be happier for it."

"He doesn't mean Lady, does he?" Sansa whimpered. "No, no, not Lady. Lady didn't _bite_ anyone. She's good!"

Arya chimed in, "Lady wasn't there. You leave her alone!"

While the girls began to become inconsolable Eddard called out to the King, "Is this your command, Your Grace?" The two men shared a look before the King left the room without another word.

"Where is the beast?"

"Chained up outside, Your Grace," The Queen smiled.

"Ser Illyn, Do me the honor."

Ned called out, "No. Jory take the girls to their rooms," He approached the callus woman. "If it must be done, I'll do it myself."

"Is this some trick?"

"The wolf is of the North, She deserves better than a butcher." With his words he swept from the room as the crowd began to disperse after him. He exited the inn and came around the side where Lady was calmly sitting with the rest of the dogs. He sighed and started to walk towards her when the Hound leading a horse up to the inn caught his attention.

"The butcher's boy," He breathed as he recognized the trampled body swung over the man's saddle. "You rode him down?"

"He ran, but not very fast."


	15. Chapter 15

Riding a horse for long periods of time had never been Ser Connington's favorite activity, but adding blistering heat and an annoying Northerner made the venture practically torture. Mormont had followed his every step since the wedding night and Jon knew what he was up to. Oh, he could act all innocent playing the kind face, but he could see how he gazed at Daenerys.

"Riding bothering you, Jon?" He rolled his eyes at Mormont's attempt of conversation.

"No, Mormont," He shot the other knight a sharp look. "And you may call me Connington or Ser, not my given name." He then reared his horse and shot forward to catch up with the princess. The woman in question brightened when she noticed the familiar face riding towards her.

"Jon, how wonderful to see you this morning," She beamed at the ginger man. "How are you faring?"

"Quite well, Khaleesi. How are you today?"

The silver haired woman shrugged her shoulders, "Most of my blisters have gone, thanks to Irri and Doreah," She shifted in her saddle. "The heat is slightly bothersome."

"Khaleesi," Seven Hells that man was determined. "You should drink some water, we wouldn't want you to fall off your horse from dehydration," Dany gifted the older man with a small smile before grasping the water skin he held out for her, partaking a large portion of the cool liquid. She handed the container back to Jorah and smiled when her husband's form entered her vision. Jorah followed her eyes and grimaced at the Dothraki male. "It will get easier, I promise."

The Valyrian girl gave the bear a strange look, "It's quite easy already." She then kicked the sides of her mare and rode off to catch up with Khal Drogo, who laughed when he saw his small wife riding towards himself and his bloodriders. Jon shook his head while chuckling at the man.

"They are quite happy together, don't you think?" Jorah's face darkened slightly, but he nodded his head in agreement.

The knights sat in silence while the Khalasar continued onward for the next hour or so. When the large procession of people finally stopped for the night Jon tied up his horse, nodded to Viserys, and wandered over to Daenerys' personal bloodrider, Rakharo.

"_How is the Khaleesi faring?_"

The young Dothraki man shrugged his shoulders, "_She seems fine, though tired,_" The tan man watched the Andal's face relax slightly as he nodded his head. "_You care for her very much._"

"_Her mother asked me to protect her before she passed, I think of her as my daughter._"

The young man snorted at his words. "_The Khal believes you are her father._"

The two continued their banter for a few minutes, but stopped when a mysterious rider approached the pair. Rakharo pulled his arakh from its sheath and Jon laid his hand on his sword's hilt as they watched the stranger hop off his horse. The man had tanned skin and jet black hair, but it was his dress that raised the knight's worry. Finely made fabrics, although neutral colors did little to disguise him in the horde, and a small pendant hanging from his neck baring a small shooting star sitting over a sword. A large shoulder bag weighed down with its objects was nestled onto his hip as he tied his stallion to a random post.

The man slowly walked towards the pair and Jon tensed at the amethyst pools watching his movement. "Sorry, didn't mean to spook anyone."

Jon quirked his brow, "Quite strange to see a Dayne this far from Starfall. Last time I saw you Edric, you were tripping over your own feet trying to putter after your uncle."

"Ah, Ser Connington," He smirked. "Seems like the years have changed the both of us. Last I saw of you was with my uncle and Prince Rhaegar." The Dornish man relaxed at the knight, but re-tensed his shoulders when he noticed the Dothraki male had not lowered his weapon yet. Jon quickly explained to Rakharo who the mysterious man was and the bloodrider scowled, but slipped his arakh back into its sheath.

The knight walked up to the Dayne and pulled him into a tight hug, "Well this is surprising," Edric laughed. "But not unwelcome."

"What in the Seven Hells are you doing here?" The men separated from each other and the Lord shrugged his shoulders.

"Needed to speak with you," He glanced around the crude camp. "Didn't expect to have to go to the ends of the Earth. Last I heard you were in Pentos."

Before Jon could answer the man the tent flap behind him opened and Dany stepped out towards the men, "What's with all the commotion Ser Connington?" Her eyes caught similar purple ones and at first she thought is was Viserys stirring up trouble, but her brother was not the one the eyes belonged to. A tall man with tan skin like her husband and a roguish smile on his face.

"My princess, may I present Lord Edric Dayne of Starfall," She raised her brows at the introduction before quickly inviting both Westerosi men into her tent. The three quickly slipped past the tent flaps, Daenerys walked over to her handmaidens, and escorted them out of the small space. She then sat down on the rug in the middle of the room and gestured for the men to sit as well.

"Sorry for the rush, Lord Dayne," The man shrugged. "But I must ask why a Dornish Lord has been trying to catch up to a Dothraki horde?"

Edric sighed, "I needed to speak to Jon. I have some urgent information from Westeros."

Dany straightened her back, "And you couldn't have sent a raven?"

He shifted in his spot on top of the rug, glancing between the old knight and the young girl. "I wished to have this conversation privately with Ser Connington."

"Well I am the Khaleesi of this Khalasar and I wish to hear this information as well," Jon smiled at the confidence in his Princess' tone.

"No disrespect, my lady. But you are not my ruler. And your brother, who by Westerosi law is your ruler, already allowed me privacy for my conversation." Daenerys scoffed at the man's words.

"We are not in Westeros, and he is not my king," She rose from her seat and gestured to the opening of the tent. "If you have nothing to say to myself, then you have nothing to say to my sworn sword." Edric nodded his head in agreement, rose from his own seat, and made his way to the exit. The pair watched the lord step out of the tent before Jon turned to Dany.

"I have to go after him Daenerys, you should not have insulted him like that."

The Khaleesi raised her eyebrows, "I insulted him? He treated me like I had no power over him. I am Khaleesi and he should treat me properly."

The older man shook his head, "Dany he did treat you properly. He does not need your permission to speak to myself, and since he is not part of the horde he does not need to treat you like is queen or princess," He gently grasped the young girl's hand, "Viserys is his king by law and he went through the proper movements to speak to me, a knight to the king."

The girl nodded her head and quickly left the tent to catch the Dornish man before he absconded from the area, calling out for the man while he was saddling his horse, "Lord Dayne!" The man turned around to see the small Valyrian woman coming up to him with the old griffin following after her. "I am sorry if I offended you, I am new to the responsibilities of being a Khaleesi. You may speak with Ser Connington if you wish."

The tan man smiled at the young woman, "I'm not offended, and I know a new marriage can be a hard adjustment," He lightly chuckled at the Targaryen's confused face. "My cousin just got married, I left Westeros right after the wedding." Dany nodded her head absently at the information while Jon tensed at Edric's words.

"The Usurper allowed Arthur's daughter to marry?"

Edric shrugged his shoulders, "Don't know what was going through his mind, but hopefully now she's safer away from King's Landing." Edric bowed to the princess before striding back into the tent as Jon followed after him. Both men entered the empty tent once again and Edric placed himself back onto his original spot on the rug. The knight gave the other man a hard look before sitting down. "Now to business," Edric swung his shoulder bag into his lap and pulled out a small black box, about a foot long and half a foot tall. "This," he handed the wooden object to the man. "Is for your lovely princess. A gift from our friend in King's Landing as a sign of good faith."

Jon grasped the box, "Why not give it to Viserys? Is he not the King?"

Edric scoffed, "Varys wanted me to give to the 'Targaryen'. He never specified which one I was to give it to." He leaned back onto a pillow behind him. "Besides that boy is not your king, and I'm guessing he hasn't been for awhile."

"Ever since he decided to sell his sister for a blasted army that will never follow him," He twisted the box around as he spoke, "Nothing dangerous in here?"

"Depends who's using it."

Connington quirked his brows, "Alright," He put the box to the side and stared at the younger man. "Now what's so important you had to cross the Narrow Sea and track down this blasted horde?"

The Dornish man scratched his neck, "Myria married a Stark."

The man laughed, "You crossed an ocean to tell me your cousin married a bloody Stark? Why is that such a fuss?"

"Let me rephrase my words," He sat up and his purple eyes gazed seriously at the knight. "The new Sword of the Morning got married to a man last month who for some reason greatly resembles our prince Rhaegar." His words caught the knight's ear and his laughter silenced.

"What son of Eddard Stark could resemble Rhaegar?" He shook his head, "Your eyes must have been playing tricks on you."

"No," Edric pressed. "He's the bastard the Quiet Wolf brought back from the war. The one nobody knew of until he came back from Dorne, from the Tower of Joy."

His statement barely intrigued Jon, "So he had a bastard with a Dornish woman? What of it?"

"Did you never know what was going on at the Tower of Joy?"

Jon stood from his seat and walked to a table to pour himself a goblet of water. "I was King Aerys' hand. I was stuck in King's Landing for most of the rebellion. I knew Rhaegar had gone to Dragonstone, but he foolishly left and lost his life at the Trident."

Edric chuckled and jumped up from his place on the rug, "You had no idea did you?" The man pulled a raven's scroll from his bag and handed it to the knight. "Rhaegar was never in Dragonstone, he lied."

Ser Connington scoffed at the thought of his close friend lying to him, but the as he read through the worn letter he could feel the blood draining from his face.

_Edric,_

_I may not see you for quite some time and I wanted to tell you all this in person when you visited King's Landing to see my newborn daughter, but it was not safe. However, Dorne is safe so there is no worry for yourself or my dear older brother. I myself am riding south soon with Clara and the baby to protect the crown prince and his new wife. They were recently married and wanted to retreat from the spread of war. She's a lovely lady, but you must keep this fact to yourself. I know this is a lot to ask dear nephew, but you deserve the truth._

_Arthur_

"I was 6 when I read those words, when I realized my dear uncle may never come home again," He sighed. "Well he did come home, but not alive."

The red headed man gazed at Edric, "He married Lyanna Stark?" He watched as the Dornish man nodded his head. "What about Elia Martell?"

"Not uncommon for a Targaryen king to take multiple wives, and her health was not what it once was. Her being unable to have children after Aegon."

Jon took in the information gulping down his water, "So you're saying Rhaegar and Lyanna had a son, Ned Stark took that son and claimed him as his bastard, and Robert Baratheon just married that man to your cousin, Myria Dayne, who also happens to be the new Sword of the Morning?" He watched Edric nod his head solemnly before stumbling back to his seat on the rug, slowly breathing. "Then Viserys is not the last Targaryen male. This boy-"

"Jon."

Ser Connington gave the lord a wide eyed stare, "_Jon_, a Stark lad, is the rightful King."

Edric walked around to pat the shocked knight on the back, "Basically. But we won't have concrete proof from a letter written to a child," He said while gesturing to the letter still clutched in the older man's hands. "But I am sure Lord Stark has something to prove the truth. Otherwise he would never let everyone believe for years he had a bastard, suddenly have King Robert legitimize the lad, and marry him to a high lady like Myria."

The old griffin reread the words Ser Arthur had written all those years ago. While very little was stated, the note itself would've had the previous Sword of the Morning killed by any of the men fighting on either side of the war. He knew in his bones the honorable man would not risk his own family over a false truth. He handed the letter back to Edric while breathing a sigh of relief knowing some part of Rhaegar had survived.

He stood to inform the other Targaryens of their secret surviving family member when Edric stopped him with his hand upon the knight's shoulder, "You can't tell them."

He glanced at the man, "And why not Edric. They deserve to know."

"Viserys is already unhinged, I know you've seen it. He's becoming too much like his father." He gripped Jon's shoulder tighter. "I can't risk Myria's life. The moment he knows he will want them both dead." Jon sighed and nodded his head in agreement. Edric squeezed his shoulder before letting go of the man and gesturing for him to leave the tent first. Both stepped out to be greeted with a full flung Dothraki feast, complete with a vast bonfire and drunken merriment.

Edric bowed to the old knight and headed towards his horse, mounted the stallion, and took off into the night. Jon watched the man go with a heavy heart, but an open mind. Daenerys caught the moment from her seat by the fire, kissed her husband, and wandered over to her knight.

"Is everything alright Jon?"

The man turned and smiled at his lady, "Of course Khaleesi. Edric informed me more on his cousin's marriage and brought a gift for you."

She seemed confused, "A gift?" The ginger nodded and guided the silver haired girl back into the tent towards the small wooden box he had left by the fire.

"He said it was from a friend in King's Landing. Most likely a late wedding gift." Daenerys nodded while observing the ornate box and slowly lifted the lid. She gasped at the sight of a small scaled purple rock and lifted the object closer to her face.

"A dragon egg?"

The man smiled at the surprised look on the girl's face. "Fitting for a dragon princess, but I believe it's long dead. Turned to stone by the ages."

She beamed up at her protector, "It's a beautiful gift nonetheless. Oh, I must thank Lord Dayne."

"He's already left," He patted the girl's back lightly. "Said something about heading home to Starfall, he must have many things left unattended back in Dorne." Dany tilted her head at the small egg as she listened to Jon's words. She stroked the scaled surface with a contemplative gaze. "I'll let you be for the night, my lady."

As Jon stepped out of the large tent for the final time that night he glanced back at the princess and could almost imagine a dark haired little boy in her place, gazing longingly at a legacy he may never have a chance to reclaim for his own.


	16. Chapter 16

Myria sighed as she glanced at the small figure tucked into bed, nearly a month had passed and Bran was nowhere closer to waking than when he first fell. Maester Luwin claimed the boy would live, but many in the Keep feared he would never fully recover. She brought her hand up to gently brush his cheek and pondered the words that have haunted her since they stumbled out of poor Tommen's mouth.

He had heard a voice, and the Dornish woman was sure of it. The small prince had every symptom of memory repression, a common illness men suffered coming back from wars or a traumatic event. Myria knew from her studies it was a very hard illness for grown adults to fake, much less a child. She felt she had a responsibility to inform Robb and his mother of the fact, but she knew how it would most likely play out. They had no evidence anyone was even there, no proof of foul play. The accusation alone was dangerous if the Starks began to point fingers at anybody who was present the day of the accident.

She gave Bran one more sad smile before she stood and swept from the room. She would have to keep what she knew quiet until she could track down definite proof of the attacker, or else innocent people would end up in danger. The Starks were well known to strike first and ask questions later, and the Lady of Winterfell was no exception.

A woman would do anything for her children, even rip the world in two.

"Myria, how's your day been?" She pushed out of her thoughts to see Robb and Jon walking towards her.

"Your mother's resting, Robb. She's fine," The auburn man tilted his head at the woman.

"I believe I asked about you, not my mother."

She shook her head, "I can see it on your face, your worried about her. But she's fine," He released a sigh of relief at her words. "And good evening to you two, what have you both been up to all day?"

Jon rolled his eyes while Robb started to chuckle, "Ria we spent the whole morning _and_ afternoon dealing with state affairs," Her husband pulled her into a tight hug. "I wanted to claw my eyes out."

"You certainly got close when those two men argued over the sheep," Robb added.

Jon's muffled replied floated from his wife's shoulder and through the air, "Don't get me started on the bloody sheep."

Myria giggled as she patted Jon's black curls. The pair had become closer since they revealed their secrets to each other, and Jon even started to call her 'Ria' like his mother did when she was an infant. She personally found it a childish nickname she had only heard slip from her cousin Robin's lips before. Jon claimed it was endearing to him so he continued to use it, and after she heard him whisper the shortened version of her name in his sleep one night she stopped complaining for the most part.

"Jon, how about we take a light dinner in our chamber?" The man in question pulled out of the tight hug to glance at his wife. "You can take a breather from affairs for the rest of the day," He eagerly nodded his head. "And Robb," The other man smiled at the tan woman. "You can visit Bran and your mother. She went to lay down a few hours ago, but I have a feeling she will be back in his room by the time you get there."

The acting Lord of Winterfell jokingly bowed to the couple, "I will make haste at once 'my queen'."

"Stop it, Robb. That's even worse than Jon's nickname for me!"

Jon widened his eyes, "Hey! Ria's a cute name."

"He's not wrong," Robb laughed at the Dornish woman's anger, "Sorry Myria, it's just so easy to tease you."

The woman begrudgingly shrugged her shoulders at her brother-in-law's statement. Robb smiled at Myria before walking away towards Bran's room. Jon gently grasped his wife's hand and the pair strolled through the halls to their chamber. They stepped into the room smiling as Ghost bounded up to them and jumped onto Jon. He laughed while petting his animal's soft white fur while attempting to maneuver into the room. Myria slipped past the hyper wolf and waved down a maid as she walked by, asking for a light meal.

Once the meal arrived Myria and her husband quickly consumed their food while passing light conversation. The Dornish woman gazed at Jon with quizzical concern whenever he would shift his gaze over to the small black chest next to his side of the bed. She knew he wished the small stone-like eggs could be out in the room freely, but the danger of anyone entering the room and noticing them was too high.

"I know you want them out Jon," said man jerked at his wife's words.

He slightly blushed at being caught staring, "I know I can't Myria, don't worry. I just feel life emanating from them still," He shrugged his shoulders, "It sounds mad, I know. Perhaps it's because they are the only part of my life that has truth to it." He gulped when Myria glared at him.

"I worded that wrong didn't I?" She nodded her head.

The woman sighed before standing from her seat at the table, "I know you didn't mean it as an insult or a slight, but they are not the only truth in your life. Your family's love is true, Ghost's loyalty, Theon's friendship, my feelings," Jon smiled at her. "You cling to the remains of your father's family through these and I feel your need for closure." She walked over to the chest, lifted the lid to observe the ancient relics, and carefully picked up the small green and silver egg. Jon came up behind her and gently wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Would talking to one of your family members help?"

Jon quirked his brow as he stared at the back of his wife's head in confusion, "The only family I have left alive are being hunted by King Robert in Essos."

Myria shook her head, "There's one Targaryen that's far closer than Essos," She smirked when she felt Jon shift behind her, "You could simply say you wanted to visit your uncle Benjen."

"The Wall? There's a Targaryen living at the _Wall_?"

Myria nodded, "Maester Aemon is the uncle of king Aerys, making him your great-great uncle." Jon pulled her closer in his arms and smiled into her hair. "We would need to sort out a few things first and hopefully wait until Bran has woken up, we could bring him and Rickon with us if Robb allowed it."

Jon pulled away, "It would seem less suspicious since both boys have talked about wishing to visit the Wall before." Myria absently tilted her head in agreement while she placed the egg back into the chest and shut the lid.

"I can go talk to Robb about it, and you should go visit Bran," Jon shifted a bit at her statement. "Gods, Catelyn can't stop you from visiting your ill brother."

"She doesn't, I just do not wish to deal with her hatred today."

Myria ran her hand through her black locks as she nodded her head, she was exasperated at the continued horrid treatment the Lady of Winterfell gave her husband's "bastard". She sometimes wanted to tell her Jon's secret just to wipe the spiteful glare from her face, but she knew it was not her place to do so. Gods know she had enough on her plate without adding that to her own issues. She placed a soft kiss on Jon's chin and strode from the room to visit Robb, but back tracked to Bran's room when she recalled he was visiting his brother.

"Rickon needs you," Myria stalled her steps at the doorway as she watched mother and son speak, catching faint howling coming from outside the Keep while she tuned her ears into the conversation. "He's six. He doesn't know what's happening. He...he follows me and Myria around all day clutching at our legs, crying."

"Close the window, please! I can't stand it, make them stop."

The Dornish woman quickly swept into the room as Robb walked towards the windows to close the shutters. Catelyn gave the younger woman a tearful smile when she offered her tan hand towards her own, letting the worried mother grasp onto her. Myria glanced up at the auburn man to see him gazing intently at something outside.

"Fire."

Both women stiffened at his grave tone of voice, "Stay here I'll come back," He quickly shot at the pair before rushing out of the room to help deal with the flames. Myria and Catelyn shot from their places by the bed and ran to the windows to pear out at the red against the dark sky. The Dayne woman furrowed her brows at the sight of the wall next to the library set aflame, nobody in all of Winterfell would be foolish enough to leave an unwatched flame so close to the room of tomes and scrolls.

She froze when she heard light footsteps enter the room and slowly craned her head to the side to see a cloaked man standing by the foot of the bed with a dagger in his hand. She fully turned around when Lady Stark did and both women watched as the man glared at them.

"You're not supposed to be here," The man frowned. "No one's supposed to be here," He glanced at Bran's still form on the bed. "It's a mercy, he's dead already." He raised the blade and stepped towards the child when Catelyn jumped in front of him screaming. He slapped her and grabbed her hair to pull her body up against his own. He pushed the dagger towards her neck, but she pushed the sharp metal away with her hands ignoring the pain she felt from the blade splitting her skin open. The pair fell back into a wardrobe and Cat bit into his hand to get him to release the blade from his grasp. The man yelled before shoving the Lady of Winterfell to the ground.

He began to run at the fallen woman, but a heel to his face sent him reeling to the other side of the room. He shot his head up to see a tan woman scowling at him while clenching her fists together, and he spat at her as he shoved off the wall. He tightly gripped the knife as he aimed for her torso, but was shocked as she quickly spun her body sideways to avoid the lunge. She threw her hand out, grasping his hand brandishing dagger. He cried out as she violently twisted his arm behind his back and he dropped the blade as he attempted to escape her hold.

He kicked his leg out and Myria stumbled when his foot came in contact with her knee, shoving the bone out of its socket. The Dornish woman fell to the ground in blistering pain and watched as the man adjusted his arm before picking up the dagger once more.

The cloaked assassin made his way to the side of the bed and lifted the blade to complete his job when a flash of fur pounced on him. Both women watched as Bran's direwolf, Summer, ripped into the man's throat, effectively killing the man. After the dog completed his deed he leapt onto the bed, licked his master's face, and laid down by Bran's feet.

Myria took in deep breaths as she glanced over to the auburn woman and grimaced at her bloody hands. "Catelyn?"

The mother shot her head up at the Dornish woman's words and quickly crawled over to her, "Are you alright Myria?"

"You're the one who's bleeding," She stated as she straightened out her leg and slammed her hand onto her kneecap to return the loose bone to its socket, crying out as the bone shifted back. Catelyn stared in shock at the woman as she watched the event, cringing at the sight of the bone moving under her skin. "Glad he didn't aim any bloody lower. Would've snapped my fucking shin in half." The Lady of Winterfell watched in slight confusion as Myria muttered.

"Are you sure you're fine Myria?" The black haired woman nodded as she ripped the edge of her pale green gown. She lifted the strips and wrapped them around the bleeding palms of the other woman and whispered apologies whenever Cat whimpered in pain. Both women lifted their heads to the doorway when they caught the sound of footsteps heading their way. They watched as Robb ran towards the room with a relieved look on his face before his skin paled at the carnage in front of him. He quickly kneeled in between his mother and Jon's wife with a concerned look on his face as he gazed at them and the mysterious body lying on the floor next to them.

"What the hell happened here?" His eyes widened as he took in Myria's bedraggled appearance and his mother's wrapped hands.

Myria and Robb watched as Catelyn burst into tears, "Someone...Gods, someone tried to kill Bran."


	17. Chapter 17

Jon sighed as he leaned back into the chair he placed next to his and Myria's bed. He glanced at his wife lying in the bed, she had been sleeping most of the previous night and the day. Maester Luwin had insisted the worn out woman rest while he properly tended to Lady Stark's hand injuries, and Jon swiftly transported her to their room. He wished someone else had been there when the attacker had entered the room in the first place, but he was at least happy neither of the women were severely harmed.

"Jon?"

He lifted his head and his dark brown eyes met with Myria's violet ones. "How did I end up in bed?"

"I carried you here after Robb found both you and Lady Stark. I'm glad you are doing better Ria." He watched as she shifted her gaze around the room before she lifted up the bedsheets to glance at her legs. She raised her skirt up to her knees and both of them cringed at the slight swollen area around her left knee.

Myria shrugged her shoulders as she gently tapped the irritated skin, "It looks worse than it is." She rolled her skirt back down and started to shuffle out of bed.

"Myria, you shouldn't be moving right now," She ignored him and continued to get out of the bed. Jon lunged his arms out to catch the Dornish woman when her attempt to stand resulted in her left leg giving out. Jon lifted her up to a standing position and let her wrap her arm around his shoulders. "Guess you'll need a cane if you want to get around by yourself." She sighed, but nodded her head.

They both straightened up when they heard a knock at the door and watched as Robb and Theon stepped into their chambers, "Sorry to disturb you two, but we were wondering if you would care to take a turn through the Godswood with us." Robb raised his eyebrows with his words while Theon nodded along with a serious look etched on his face. Jon and Myria glanced at each other before Jon turned back to his brother and friend.

"Sounds like it would be just the thing to reinvigorate Ria, but she needs a cane." Robb let out a sigh of relief as he pulled a wooden cane from behind his back and passed it over to the Dornish woman. She grasped the stick and began to follow the three men out of the room. Robb led the group of four out of the Keep and towards the large and imposing forest. They passed through the woods until they reached the Weirwood tree, and Robb walked ahead of the other three to greet Maester Luwin, Rodrick Cassel, and his mother, Cat.

"Mother, why did you insist to meet out here?" Robb questioned as he and the others came closer to the trio waiting. Jon assisted Myria to a fallen log while Catelyn nodded to her son.

"No one can catch our words out here," She fiddled with her bandaged hands. "What I am about to tell you must remain between us." She waited until everyone in attendance nodded their heads in agreement. "I don't think Bran fell from that tower, I think he was thrown."

Maester Luwin chimed in, "The boy was always sure-footed before."

"Someone tried to kill him twice. Why? Why murder an innocent child?" Catelyn probed the group.

Myria shifted on the fallen tree she had claimed for a seat, "He saw something he wasn't supposed to see." The group glanced at her and Catelyn raised her brow at the solemn expression etched on the young woman's face.

"Saw what?" Theon questioned.

Cat shook her head, "I don't know, but I would stake my life the Lannisters are involved." She directed her next sentence to the Maester. "We already have reason to suspect their loyalty to the crown." Myria scoffed at the Lady of Winterfell's dangerous words. She suspected something specifically like this would happen.

"Did you see the weapon the attacker used?" Cassel raised the sheathed blade. "Far to fine for such a man." Myria tensed when she noticed the blade in the light, it had been too dark the previous night for her to properly observe it. "The blade is Valyrian steel, the handle dragonbone." The Master at Arms raised the weapon for everyone else to observe it. "Someone gave it to him."

Before Myria could comment Robb spoke up, "They come into my home and tried to kill my little brother? If it's war they want-"

"If it comes to it you know I will stand behind you." Theon cuts in to Robb's declaration.

The Maester steps forward, "War? Is there going to be a battle in the Godswood? Too easily words of war become acts of war. We don't know the truth yet." He turned back to Lady Stark. "Lord Stark must be told of this."

Catelyn shook her head, "I don't trust a raven with these words."

Robb stepped forward, "I'll ride to King's Landing."

"No," Catelyn disagreed. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, I'll go myself."

"I'll go with you," The group turned their heads to the Dornish woman.

"You're injured Ria, you can't."

"Jon, I must and I will," She looked to Lady Stark. "You have never been to the capital and you will need someone who knows the inner workings of the city, plus it will be less suspicious if someone recognizes us since I can claim I was heading to retrieve some of my belongings."

Catelyn shuffled her feet, "I can't ask that of you, Myria."

"I will be going, because I have a feeling about who hired that man." Everyone tensed. "I know that blade, I watched the King lose it in a bet a year ago at a jousting tournament."

Rodrick Cassel glanced at the blade and the woman, "And who did he lose it to."

"Lord Petyr Baelish."

Catelyn tensed at the name of her childhood friend, "That's absurd. Why would Lord Baelish hire someone to kill my son? He has been my friend for years."

Myria rolled her eyes and raised herself from the log, grunting as she stood. "I have spent my whole life in that cesspool called King's Landing, and I know who can be trusted. Baelish is not one of them. He will do anything to better his own standing in the world." She limped over to the older woman. "And with the information I learned not long ago most of this makes sense."

"Information?" Catelyn asked.

"Prince Tommen told me he heard someone speaking before Bran fell, I doubt he understands the ramifications of what he heard, but it definitely means someone else was there."

The mother ran towards the other woman and gripped the front of her dress, "Why did you not tell me this sooner? That man may have not even reached Bran's room!" Robb and Jon rushed over to pull the auburn woman off of the young Dornish.

Jon let go of the Lady of Winterfell and came to his wife's side, "You would've reacted just like this!" Myria exclaimed at the mother. "Enraged and irrational. This is an extremely delicate situation and if you just start pointing fingers with no definitive proof you will get some innocent person killed."

"Then we go to the King and tell him the Lannisters paid Baelish to hire the assassin, they would be properly punished." The Southern woman scoffed at Robb's optimistic tone.

"There is no proof the Lannisters paid Baelish at all. And the man himself is a lord of the King's council. He can simply state the attacker stole the blade from him and the King will wholly believe that."

The young lord deflated at her harsh statement. He knew her words rang true, they were claiming a man almost a continent away wanted a 10 year old boy dead. It was a preposterous statement when he thought about it more, and to any outsider the Lannisters would have no reason to harm the family one of them was marrying.

"Perhaps, the young Lady Stark has a point," Maester Luwin interjected softly. "We must wait and discover more proof before we bring this egregious event to the King himself." Myria sighed and leaned into Jon's body as the rest of the group let the wise man's words wash over them. "But we should send someone to King's Landing to inform Lord Stark of the plot against Brandon."

"While Myria has made a logical offer for her guidance, it is unsafe for two women to travel the King's road alone." Theon muttered out and the woman in question rolled her eyes, but held her tongue.

The Master at Arms straightened his back, "Lady Stark," Cat tilted her head at the older man. "I will proudly and safely lead you to the capital, if you agree."

The Tully woman stiffly nodded her head at his offer and turned to face the four younger members of the group. "It would be useful for Myria to come as well, but with her injured leg…."

"I can accompany her along the travel," Jon stated. "Nothing odd about a husband and wife traveling together."

The older woman hardened her gaze, "Quite, I suppose it is the best plan going forward."

With her final words the group dispersed with many of the members wandering back to the Keep on their own to avoid detection, but Jon stayed back when he noticed Myria had yet to leave her spot near the Weirwood. He cupped her chin and brought her head up to meet her eyes and frowned at the sadness pooling in her amethyst orbs.

"What's wrong Ria?"

"I'm scared of what's to come in the future."

"You would be a fool if you weren't."

He offered his arm for his wife and let a soft grin form on his face as he led her out of the holy forest, but he missed when she glanced back for a second to meet the crying sap eyes of the sacred tree. The couple quickly returned to their room and found Willow folding Myria's clothes and placing them carefully into a small suitcase for travel.

"Gods, word travels fast." Willow turned and blushed at her lady's cynical tone.

"Lady Stark found me in the hall, she wishes to depart as soon as you are able Myria."

Jon helped his wife sit in a chair by the fireplace, before moving over to the desk and bringing the sheathed Dawn over to the sore Dornish woman. "You will take this with you I hope," She shook her head when he presented the rare weapon. "Ria, I want you safe. You know how to use it. I know Lord Cassel and I will be there, but just incase."

"Alright," Jon smiled as she carefully grasped her ancestral blade. "I hope no issues will amass on the road."

Willow spoke up from the bed, "I doubt anything will go wrong my lady, the King's Road has been quiet lately." Myria gave the handmaiden a strained smile and waited until she had left the chamber before she exhaled a large sigh of relief.

"Everything's happening so fast," Jon poured wine into two cups and passed one over to Myria. "How long have you suspected Bran's fall was suspicious?"

The exhausted woman downed the cup the moment it touched her lips, "Not long, but I know you have a right to be upset. I'm sorry for keeping what I knew a secret from you."

He shrugged, "You had a point, we Stark's are a bull-headed type, The pair chuckled at the small insult to their family members. "We will be fine, you know."

"How can you possibly know that Jon?"

The tall man placed his cup down and grasped Ria's hand, "Just a feeling, but I believe we will get through this together."

"Alright," Myria smiled up at her husband. "Together."


	18. Chapter 18

King's Landing was a peculiar capital for sure. Ever since Ned had gotten here he hated every minute. People were insensitive, liers, and scoundrels. Practically everything going on at the moment was confusing and frustrating to the highest degrees. Not to mention his own daughters had been enraged at each other since the affair with their dire wolves. He hated how Sansa blamed him for Lady's death, but he was still happy she retained her innocence.

Arya, however, kept begging to be sent home before Eddard was able to track down Syrio Forell for her to train under, he thanked the Old Gods Myria told him of the man. He sat at the desk in his solar pouring over a financial account the council asked him to approve for the Hand's Tournament coming up later in the week. He glared at the high expenses the event would create and grimaced at the thought of the crown owning Tywin Lannister even more money than it already does. 2 million gold dragons, how could Robert let the debt to his father-in-law climb so high? Not to mention the Iron Bank, which was another million they did not the ability to pay back at the moment.

How did Jon Arryn handle this for the past 19 years?

Before he could let himself sink into further depressed thoughts a knock at his door drew his attention. Lord Stark straighten his back and called out for the person to enter. He watched as the Master of Coin, Petyr Baelish, stepped into his field of vision. The tall man claimed to be an old friend of his wife, but he held little trust for him. The look he got on his face whenever he spoke of Cat made his fists curl up, and he had to restrain himself. The South's rules were far different than the North.

"My Lord Hand, I have interesting news for you."

"Lord Baelish, what news do you speak of?" He observed as Baelish crossed the threshold of the door and walked towards his desk.

"As you know I have eyes all over this city," Eddard nodded. "And it has come to my attention that a certain couple was seen traveling into the city through the Lion's Gate a few hours ago."

The quiet wolf raised his brow, "And what does this information have to do with me?" Before the man could answer the high lord another voice cut through the air.

"Ah Baelish, no surprise to see you here." Both men turned to see the young Lady Myria Stark standing in the doorway with Jon next to her.

"Jon, Myria? Why are you two in the capital?" The Dornish woman smiled at her 'father-in-law' and held in a chuckle at the shocked look on the snake's face.

"I came to collect a few of my things I failed to bring with me, as I was unaware I was going to be married when I left," She leaned onto Jon's arm and placed a false smile onto her face. "And I begged Jon to come along to visit some of my favorite places of my childhood." Jon glanced down at the scripted words his wife spoke so well and smiled at her to throw off the other man in the room. "I was wondering if we could have a private word with Lord Stark?"

Lord Baelish broke from his shock and slyly bowed before making his leave from the room. He would have to dig for more information about the couples' sudden appearance. Once the watchful eye had left the room both young adults breathed a sigh of relief which only caused more confusion for the older man.

"What's going on? I thought I was doing the right thing leaving the both of you far away from the South." Jon patted his wife's arm before stepping towards his uncle and pulling him into a tight hug.

"We have news that was far too dangerous to send by raven, so we brought it ourselves," Eddard watched as Myria nodded her head at his nephew's words. "Far less suspicious. although Lady Stark insisted on coming along as well."

Lord Stark interlocked his fingers and let his chin rest upon the connected digits. He sighed before looking at the couple, "You brought Cat with you?"

"Gods no," Myria scoffed as he placed herself in the seat across from the Hand. "Halfway through the journey we, well I, sent her and Lord Rodrick Cassel to the Eyrie to investigate the claim my aunt Lysa sent to you. To think she wanted to seek out Lord Baelish for help? She knows nothing of the game these Southern scum adore to play."

Eddard relaxed his stance at her words, she definitely learned a few lessons while she grew up in the capital, "So the news you wished to tell?"

Jon grimaced, "Bran along with Lady Catelyn and Myria were attacked. An assassin came in the night to kill him, but he was luckily killed by Summer."

"Gods," The couple watched as the color drained from Lord Stark's face.

"But," Myria added. "None of us were harmed severely. We believed we needed to bring this to your attention in person, I figured you have already noticed some strange happenings in the capital itself."

Ned glanced at the woman, "Strange happenings?"

"Watchful eyes," she turned her head towards the door. "And not just the birds of Lord Varys. We have other news."

"What other news?"

Myria rose, walked closer to Ned, and leaned close to his ear, "Tommen heard someone speaking before Bran fell. Catelyn is quite certain someone caused Bran to fall." She furrowed her brows as she watched the father become engulfed with rage, but before he could stand from his chair she gripped his shoulder tightly. "Acting rashly is the very reason I refused to allow Catelyn to tell you herself. You are in a nest of vipers waiting to strike my Lord."

Eddard forced himself to calm, he knew she was correct. If he stormed off and started throwing accusations his head would end up on someone's platter. He glanced up at the Southern woman and noticed the gears turning through her head.

"What do you suppose we do? Take the matter to the King?"

"No," She stepped away from his desk and paced across the floor. "The dagger that was used was given to the assassin was one of the King's. Now I know for certain he had nothing to do with it, but it would be quite easy for anyone in the Keep to gain access to the blade."

"Is that why you sent Lord Baelish out, do you suspect him?" Myria shrugged her shoulders at Jon's inquiry.

"I suspect many, but Baelish would use this information to only better himself, not to achieve justice." Eddard and Jon glanced at each other while Myria racked her brain for a quick solution. The two men waited a moment until the Dornish woman turned towards them with resolve resting on her face.

"Jon and I will go meet with Varys," she held up her hand to prevent the interruption she knew was coming. "I do not trust him, but he always does what's right for the realm, which right now is the prevention of full-blown war. He will listen and help as much as he is able."

Lord Stark inclined his head in agreement, "And what will I be doing in this endeavor?"

"You, my Lord, will keep Baelish's prying eyes away from Jon and I. I do not care as much if he learns why we came, but I do not want him to know we went to Varys. That would give him leverage over us."

Eddard agreed with her plan and nodded before rising to see his family members to the door. Myria and Jon waited until the door opened to exchange farewell pleasantries with the eyes of every servant and guard placed upon the trio of highborn. The Dornish woman was then led away by her husband and gently smiled at each person they passed in the halls. Jon turned down a hall whenever his wife tapped his elbow and lightly tugged it the way they had to go until they reached the entrance to the palace gardens. Jon glanced around with wide eyes at the lush foliage, vibrant flowers, and peaceful birds floating through the air. He quickly snapped his mind back to the task at hand when Myria pulled his arm as she started to wander through the plants.

She stopped them by a small marble bench under a pavilion, and gracefully placed herself upon the stone. She waited for Jon to sit next to her and smirked at his awkward movements as he plopped next to her. She let her eyes flutter shut and took in the air when she heard light footsteps approaching the sheltered seating area.

"Lady Dayne, or should I say Stark?" She opened her eyes to a stout bald man clothed in orange silks with a twinkle in his eye. Her lips quirked at the playful tone of the observant man.

"Stark will do just fine, Varys. It is lovely to see you once more," The spider smiled at the pleasantries of the lady before taking a seat under the pavilion opposite of the pair.

"I had thought I would not be seeing you once more in our capital, after your marriage vows. But I heard you were visiting with your husband and I wished to see how you were holding up in the North."

Myria laced her fingers with Jon's, "I am doing quite well, Jon is a wonderful husband. And I came to retrieve some personal belongings I had left, and to show Jon around my childhood home." Varys nodded at the words flowing from the Southern woman's mouth.

"Well you two do have a wonderful time ahead of you, but I wonder if you are aware of the chaperone you have," Myria tensed as Varys' face took on a more serious look. "It seems Lady Stark followed you to the capital, perhaps to keep an eye on the young couple."

"Ah, I had worried this might happen," Jon quirked his brows at his wife's improvisation. "She was worried we might embarrass Lord Stark in some way and was very against our travel."

"Ah quite right, the Hand of the King has a large reputation to uphold, and I suppose Lord Baelish was sent by Lord Stark to collect his wife?"

Jon felt Myria grip his hand tighter, "I believe Lord Baelish and Lord Stark were speaking of that very topic when we arrived at the Hand's solar earlier, he did leave in a hurry." The older man slyly nodded his head at the cover-up story, he always commended the Dornish woman's skill of fixing others' mistakes. "But enough of our family issues, I wonder if you would be so kind to deliver this letter for us," His watched as she pulled a small scroll from her sleeve and passed it over to his outstretched hand, and tensed at the wax seal stamped onto the paper: a black three-headed dragon.

"This is a very dangerous thing for such a small woman to be hiding, how did you come to bear _this_ sigil?"

Myria only fluttered her lashes as the man swiftly hid the heavy writing from watchful eyes, "Why Varys, I only use the sigil of my husband's family. You of all people should be aware of that," Varys' eyes shot to the tense form of Jon and eyed him harshly. "But this letter is from beyond the grave, a final farewell from one brother to another."

The spider relaxed at her confident tone, "So a letter from the past per se?"

"Our fathers wanted it to be delivered," She said as she gestured between herself and her husband.

Varys chuckled, "I never knew Lord Stark and Lord Dayne were close when they were younger."

"There seem to be many things you do not know, Lord Varys," Jon finally spoke quietly, but the older man caught the tinge of knowledge tucked within the words.

"You would appear to be correct my Lord, such a pity for the Master of Whispers to be out of the loop of such a story," He smiled at the pair and noticed how they seemed to feed off each others' energy. "But I will happily deliver this swiftly. The King will be happy to see it."

With his final words, he rose from his bench and began to make is way from the secluded part of the garden, but paused at the words which slipped from Jon Stark's mouth, "He's correct, the _prince_ will be happy to see it."


	19. Chapter 19

Arya breathed deeply as she silently slipped through the palace halls following the small shadow. The cat was sneaky for sure, but she knew she would not get another lesson from Syrio if she did not catch the damned thing. She had been following the small animal for most of the day already, completely ignoring the far-away sounds of the tournament taking place. She had gone yesterday after the Septa had squeezed her into another dress, but she did not enjoy it as much as she thought she would.

Especially after the Mountain slaughtered that poor Vale knight.

She pressed the morbid thoughts from her mind as she watched the feline stop on a darkened step near the lower staircase in the hallway. Her father wanted her and Sansa to stay away from the catacombs under the palace, but after hearing Myria's stories of her exploring them in her youth it was all Arya had been itching to do. And if she was doing as her water dancing instructor asked how would she be in the wrong?

She carefully stepped closer to the cat and smiled when it jumped down the stairs to escape from her clutches. Ayra rolled up her sleeves before she bounded after the poor animal, smiling as she flew down the stairs. The young girl paused at the edge of the stairwell and took in the lower hall. The walls were sparsely scattered with torches creating a mass of shadows along the floor, small liquid dripping could be heard throughout the entire area, and a strong putrid smell wafted through the air.

The cat sprinted out from one of the shadows and Arya leaped after the black-furred beast. She threw her arms out attempting the latch onto the hind legs of the creature, but it evaded her well. The wild girl's attention was so focused on the animal she missed the obstacle in her way and crashed into a painfully hard object.

Her temple throbbed as her vision flickered in and out of focus as she glanced up at the wall, but the large cream-colored entity was not the wall at all. It was a giant dragon skull. 14 no 15 feet in size, with a sharp row of teeth half the length of herself and curved horns resting at the top of the cranium like a regal crown. Ayra took a deep breath as she glanced to the side and saw a matching sized skull on either side of the one she ran herself into and she knew exactly what these skulls used to be.

Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes. Aegon the Conqueror's dragons.

The Northern girl beamed at the sight of them. Myria had told her about the mass of dragon skulls hidden within the Keep, but she never thought she would ever be lucky enough to come across them.

"He's found one bastard already," Arya's head snapped to the left side of the room and caught the sight of a body shaped shadow moving across the wall and quickly hid within the skull to avoid being caught. "He has the book, the rest will come."

"And when he knows the truth, what will he do?" The small girl froze at the sound of two men approaching closer to her hiding spot.

"The Gods alone know. The fools tried to kill his son and what's worse, they botched it. The wolf and the lion will be at each others' throats," The man sighed. "We will be at war soon."

"What good is war now? We're not ready. If one Hand can die, why not a second?" The brunette girl tensed at the threat aimed at her father.

"This Hand is not the other."

"We need time. Khal Drogo will not make his move until his son is born. You know how these savages are."

"I am well aware, but in the meantime, I need you to deliver this letter to our knight as swiftly as possible. He will know what to do with it."

Arya peaked her head between two teeth to see one cloaked man pass a small scroll to another. She squinted to try to catch any defining features of them but was unsuccessful.

"I will be as fast as my ships are able, but what if he is still not ready?"

The taller man smiled, "I may have a solution for that issue in the making, this is no longer a game for just two players."

With his words, he led his companion from the room, locking the gate at the end of the hall as they went. Once they had walked far enough out of her hearing range and line of sight Arya jumped up and ran to the gate, attempting to open the locked area. She huffed when the bars refused to move, but stalled when she heard a small 'meow' come from the other side of the room. She glanced over to see the black cat from earlier watching her before turning and heading down a small hidden hallway. The Stark girl chased after the cat and breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed light coming from the end of the tunnel.

She ran to the end of the way to be met with the light of the sun and the smell of the ocean's water. People glanced at the tunnel's opening as a girl's laughter rang from inside of it and went back to their own business once catching sight of the dirty child. Arya quieted her laughing and climbed out of the tunnel and across the small cliff until her feet were safely planted upon the sand of Blackwater Bay.

She then started to sprint back towards the castle. She had to tell her father what she just heard. His life may be in danger!

Before she was able to get very far at all she once more crashed into a hard object and swung her head up when she felt calloused hands gently grip her upper arms. Her grey eyes met with deep ocean blue eyes and she blushed at the fact she crashed into some poor sod.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," She awkwardly pulled away from the tallboy. "Sorry for crashing into you, but I'm in a bit of a rush."

"Oh yeah?" The blue-eyed boy smiled at the small girl. "Where you off to?"

"The castle, I have to speak with my father immediately." Arya started to move swiftly through the crowded streets

Before she could rush off again, however, a voice sounded from close behind her, "I'm heading to the Keep too. Could give you some company so you don't get crushed."

"Are you calling me small? And why would you go to the palace?"

Arya silently fumed as he chuckled at her, "An old friend is in town and requested I come visit her. That's about it." She groaned but nodded at the boy and then continued on her way with her tall escort following behind. They quickly reached the lower gates of the Red Keep and stalled when the guards by the gate swung their spears in front of them, halting their movements.

"Off with you two, no begging," Ayra took a step back at the harsh tone of the palace guard.

"I'm not a beggar." Arya pushed her shoulders back and raised up her head. "I live here."

"Do you want a smack on your ear to help your hearing?"

"I want to see my father," The boy next to Arya placed a hand on her shoulder as he eyed the faces of the armed men.

"I want to fuck the queen for all the good she does me," The pair laughed at each other, but stopped when they noticed the children were still present. "You want your father boy? He's lying on the floor of some tavern, getting pissed on by his friends."

"My father is Hand of the King. I'm not a boy, I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell and if you lay a hand on me my father will have _both_ your heads on spikes." The boy behind the small girl raised his brows at her serious tone. "Now, are you going to let us by, or do I need to smack you on the ear for your hearing?"

The two men glanced at each other then glanced back the child, but before they could tell her off again a voice sounded behind them, "Arya, Gendry. Strange to see you two together." Everyone turned their heads to the voice of Myria Stark, and Arya cracked a grin at the sight of her favorite sister and brother walking toward her and her new friend.

"Lady Dayne, odd to see you back in the capital."

"It's Stark now, Willam. And I am visiting my husband's family, one of which you are detaining at the moment." The castle guard reddened at the clipped sound of the highborn lady's voice and quickly shoved himself and his partner out of the children's way. Gendry and Arya slipped past the guards with ease and the eleven-year-old girl flung herself into Jon's arms while the black-haired boy shook hands with the Dornish woman.

"It's lovely to see you again, m'lady," Gendry muttered while attempting to hold in a chuckle.

"Oh please, you know I am far from a proper lady and thank you for escorting my sister in law back to the castle. Her father has been incredibly worried."

The thirteen-year-old shrugged his shoulders, "Didn't even know she was your sister, Myria."

The Woman smiled and sighed, "Well she is and now I must escort her to her father before he passes from worry. If you wouldn't mind waiting in the gardens for me?" He nodded his head and walked towards the inner courtyard of the Keep. Myria nodded at Jon and he reluctantly released his little sister. The trio then walked swiftly through the keep and stopped when they reached the door to Lord Stark's solar. Jon lightly knocked on the door and they waited until Lord Eddard muttered a 'come in.' When the three were inside the room the couple stood back as the daughter and father hugged each other tightly.

"I had half my guard searching for you," Arya frowned at the disappointing tone of her father. "You promised me this behavior would stop."

"They said they were going to kill you!"

The three adults shared a sharp look, "Who did?"

"I didn't see them well, it was dark," Myria gently placed her hand onto the girl's back. "I'm not lying!"

"Where did you see them, Arya?"

"In the dungeons, near the dragon skulls. They said you found the bastard, and the wolves are fighting the lions and savage. Something about the savage."

Jon glanced at his father, "What were you doing in the dungeons?"

Arya shrugged, "Chasing a cat."

A knock sounded on the door and the Stark family members turned their heads to see a man with long dark hair and Northern armor stepped into the room, "Pardon my Lord, there's a Night's watchman wishing to have a word, says it's urgent."

"Thank you, Jory, please take my daughter to her room and give us a moment." The Stark vassel bowed and led the small girl from the room.

"What can you make of her words, Myria?" The Dornish woman sighed at Lord Eddard's question.

"Chaos is coming. She most likely witnessed a meeting between Lord Varys and one of his contacts across the Narrow Sea, hence the 'Savage' she kept hearing about. But the Lion and the Wolves most likely pertains to our family and the Lannisters. Varys knows about what happened to Bran and how Lady Catelyn not-so-secretly followed us to the Capital," Lord Stark opened his mouth to deny the statement, but Myria's raised hand halted the words in his mouth. "Don't try covering for her, many of the spies in the city saw her entering Lord Baelish's brothel. I told you and her not to trust that snake of a man."

"They were childhood friends, and he offered to help us in the search for the attacker. He even identified who owned the blade." Myria rolled her eyes at the words flowing from the liege Lord's mouth.

"Father, Myria told Lady Stark and Robb who owned that blade back in Winterfell, and I trust her word far more than this Lord Baelish." Eddard raised his brows.

"So you agree it was Tyrion Lannister who won that blade?"

She snorted, "Heavens no, Tyrion would never bet against his own brother. He wasn't even at that tournament. The king bet that knife and lost it to Lord Baelish."

Lord Stark brooded over the accusation set out, "If what you say is true, then why would he offer to help?"

"The people who offer help but have no reason to are always the most suspicious when a crime takes place. Ser Barristan Selmy told me that long ago, and I know he wants to keep tabs on what you know so he can cover his own tracks."

Jon scoffed, "Simply speaking he is pulling the wool over your eyes and he used your wife as bait. She trusts him far too much even though the last time she saw him was over 20 years ago."

"No," Ned sighed as he reclaimed his seat. "Your right, Jon. He had no reason except his overly obsessive devotion to my wife. How should I solve this then?"

"Let him think you still need his help, but collect evidence and bring it to the King. Even he can't ignore Baelish's plot to turn the Starks and Lannisters against each other." The Lord of Winterfell nodded at the confident tone of the newly married woman.

"Alright, but for now I will see to this present issue. Jory." The couple turned as the young man walked into the room. "Please send the Night's watchmen in, I can help with his issue now." The brunette man nodded and opened the door wider for a grim-faced man to step through the doorway before reclosing the door. "Your name, friend?"

"Yoren, if it pleases you, Lord Stark. This must be your newly wedded son."

Jon shook Yoren's offered hand, "Did Benjen send you?" Ned asked.

"No one sent me, my Lord. I'm here to find men for the Wall. See if there's any scum in the dungeons I might fit for service."

"We'll find recruits for you."

Yoren nodded, "Thank you, my Lord, but that's not the only reason I disturbed you now. Your brother Benjen, his blood runs black. It makes him just as much as my brother as he is yours. It's for his sake I road here so hard I damn near killed my horse," Myria furrowed her brows at the nervous tone of his voice. "Others are riding, the whole city will know by tomorrow."

"Know what?"

"It's your wife, she's taken the Imp. She took him prisoner on the King's road and is riding him to the Eyrie as we speak."


	20. Chapter 20

Viserys was jealous. As much as he hated to admit it, but watching these horse savages adore his pitiful little sister drove him up the wall. And for what? Because she was a whore who spread her legs and got pregnant?

Standing in this stick hut in Vaes Dorthrak did nothing to improve his mood as Daenerys was carried by Khal Drogo after disgustingly consuming a whole horse heart. He had to watch as the hoard cheered for her and tried to control his temper over the ignorant men wishing to follow her when he was the Last Dragon of House Targaryen.

"Frowning ages you, my King, and green is most definitely not your color." And the cherry on top, Ser Connington. The 'loyal' knight that has been fluttering after his sister, hoping to catch a shadow of his lost Queen. It was quite pathetic if one spent time thinking about it.

"They love her."

Jon nodded at the Prince's words, but frowned at his forlorn expression, "Her child is the future of their tribe. She fully is one of them now."

"No, they don't just accept her, they _love_ her." The knight watched as Viserys left the temple after he spared one more glance at his sister. Connington noted to keep a better eye on the male Targaryen, he guessed his coin was about to land.

The ginger man leaned against the wall and watched as the small woman was carried around once more and then led out of the doors to the celebration hall. He slowly followed the group as they paraded their Khalessi through the street, but stopped when he felt a small tug on his tunic sleeve. He glanced down to see a small, dirty child holding an unopened raven scroll toward him. He took the paper and watched the child run off back the way he came. He quickly ducked into an alley and unrolled the scroll, and glared at the Spider's familiar handwriting.

_Faithful Knight,_

_I'm sorry to say, but you follow the wrong Drake. The ice blows harsh and the wolves howl where he makes his home among the Star's guiding light. The desert trapped ones will soon learn the truth and their coins will land._

Jon, he knew who he was speaking of. But how in the Seven Hells did Varys know? Had Edric let something slip? No, he was loyal to his family and opening his mouth would put his cousin in danger. But he knew he must tell Dany what was said in that tent all those weeks ago, it was the honorable thing to do. He swiftly caught up with the procession as they reached the massive circular tent set up for the celebration and wandered to the middle of the vast mass of Dorthraki drinking, dancing, and fucking. He bowed to the Khal and Khalessi and moved once Drogo nodded at him and Dany motioned to the seat next to her.

"I'm so glad you made it, Ser Connington," The silver-haired woman beamed.

"I wouldn't miss your triumph for the entire world, my Queen. I do have something I must speak with you about later, but let the merriment occur."

Daenerys shrugged her shoulders at the knight's words and they let a calm silence fall over their group as the rest of the party raged on around them.

As time past and the sunset, Jon noticed the absence of the other Targaryen and began to rise to collect him when Viserys came barging into the party stumbling through the entrance of the tent. Jorah Mormont jumped to his feet and stopped the royal man's staggering path.

"Lord Mormont! I am here for the feast! The whore's feast!" Connington sneered at the crude language the Targaryen heir used to describe his sister.

"_There is a seat for you_," The Khal spoke up from his large chair in the middle of the feast. "_Back there_." He pointed to one of the back areas of the tent.

"He said there is a seat for you back there," Viserys groaned at the dismissive tone of the exiled Northern Lord. He glared at Jorah's hand as he pointed behind the Dragon Lord to a small secluded area.

The proclaimed King turned to Khal Drogo, "Nonsense, that is no sitting area for a King."

The music slowed to a stop at the sound of the tall Khal laughing from his seat, "You are no King."

Viserys' face contorted into a hot rage, he trashed his arm to his side and whipped his long sword from its sheath. Jorah tried to swipe the blade from his hands, but he was quickly met with the sharp end against his neck.

"Keep away from me," Jon watched the insane glint in his violet eyes.

Dany jumped from her seat as she watched one of her loyal men be threatened, "Viserys, please!"

The silver-haired man shot his head towards his little sister and swung the weapon in her direction. He smiled as he sauntered over to the small woman. The bear quickly attempted to allay the man's madness induced anger, "Put the sword down. They'll kill us all!"

"They can't kill us. They can't shed blood in their sacred city," Connington observed Drogo's silent motions to his bloodriders before he noticed the insane man walk closer to the pregnant woman. Daenerys' servant, Irri, attempted to stand in front of her lady but the Targaryen princess pushed her behind her as she faced down her brother. "But I can."

He raised his sword towards his sister, but the blade met metal instead of skin and he scowled at the ginger man standing in his way.

"No surprise the great Ser Jon Connington would try to save his whore."

Jon glared at Viserys, "I am here to protect my Lady, I am her sworn sword. You will have to go through me to even try to get her."

"My pleasure," He lifted the blade to Connington's exposed neck, but before he could attack the small amethyst eyed woman called out to her deranged brother.

"What do you want, brother?"

The male heir glared at his last known family member and then glanced at the Khal and the female translator sitting next to him, "I want what I came for. I want the crown he promised me. He bought you, but he never paid for you. Tell him I want what was bargained for or I am killing this old fool," He pressed the sword close to the knight's neck. "And I'm taking you back." Jon scoffed at the nonsense spewing from the man's mouth. "He can even keep the baby. I'll just cut it out and leave it for him."

Dany's eyes teared up at the horrors her brother promised and Khal Drogo's face darkened as he heard each word be translated.

"_He will get a golden crown he and any other man will never forget as I place it onto his head_."

Viserys' eyes shifted from the savage back to his sister, "What did he say?"

She held Viserys' gaze as she smiled, "He says yes. You shall have a golden crown that men shall tremble to behold."

With her words, the Targaryen man's face relaxed and he let a calm smile pass onto his face as he slowly began to lower the sword pressed into Connington's neck. The knight quickly stepped himself and Daenerys away from the unhinged man. "That was all that I wanted," He muttered to the Khal. "What was promised."

Dany and Connington stayed silent as Drogo stood and approached his wife. Dany let herself relax when she felt her husband's hand upon her pregnant stomach, but Jon still kept his eyes on the wounded animal as he was surrounded.

"_Break it._"

Viserys raised his brows at the sharp tone of the Khal, but quickly cried out as one of the Khal's bloodriders gripped his sword arm and twisted it back so hard the bones snapped in two like twigs. "AHHHH!" The injured man attempted to squirm out of the guards' hold, but it was an impossible task.

The Dothraki Khal smirked at the pitiful state of the screaming man and strode over to the fire where the slave women had been cooking moments before. "_Dump it_." The women quickly poured out the boiling soup and he unlatched the bronze and gold coin belt he wore, proceeding to toss it into the pot and waited by its side as the metal began to bubble.

Viserys's gaze focused onto the Khal and shot back towards his sister with a pleading look, "Look away Khalessi." Jorah Mormont muttered as he approached the noblewoman, but his words did nothing to make her move.

"No." Jorah reached his hand to her shoulder, but Ser Connington's firm grip halted his arm. The two knights passed glares between each other, but the Northern man quickly backed down from the ginger-haired man.

Viserys once more glanced back to the Khal and struggled more at the sinister look upon his face, "Dany, Don't let them…" He shot his head from his sister to her husband. "Make them!" She watched on with a dead look in her eyes as Drogo lifted the pot full of molten metal from the fire and brought it over to the Targaryen male. He shook as he watched the tall man bring the pot over his head.

"DANY, PLEASE!"

She stood as still as a statue with the two knights watching on in silence. The violet-eyed man turned his gaze back to the present danger in front of him and whimpered at the crazed glint in Drogo's eyes.

"A crown for a king!"

Everyone in attendance witnessed as the Khal tipped the pot over and let the boiling gold pour onto the Valyrian man's head and the only thing which broke the silence in the room was the dying wails of the would-be-King. Drogo waited until his body went limp and then let his guards drop the carcass to the floor.

Ser Connington grimace at the sight and the smell of the burning flesh but turned his head back towards his Queen when Mormont called out to her, "Khalessi?"

"He is no dragon," She whispered. "Fire cannot kill the dragon."

The crowd quickly dispersed and the bloodriders collected the body to throw it out of the city. Jon knew exactly what would become of it, only those who died in honor were burned in pyres. The rest were buried, but the traitors were left to rot in the sun. The old knight grimly followed the apathetic Khalessi and her servants as they swiftly returned to her tent. Once the Dothraki women had made the silver-haired woman comfortable they left the Lady with her guard.

"My Queen, are you alright?"

Daenerys sighed, "He was my brother, but he was a monster. Did Drogo do the right thing?"

Jon froze at the tearful eyes which met his hazel ones, "Yes, he did. As hard as it was," He pulled her into a gentle hug. "They used to say whenever a Targaryen was born the Gods would flip a coin of madness or greatness."

"I suppose we know what Viserys landed on."

"Yes," He patted her back. "Two left to land though."

Daenerys pulled away from her life long mentor, "One, at least until Rhaego is born. So I suppose you are right." She frowned however when she noticed the stoic look on his face.

"Three after your son is born, and perhaps more on the way."

The Vaylrian girl's blood turned to ice at his words, "I don't understand."

Jon sighed and placed himself onto the ground, "A few months ago, when Lord Dayne visited and delivered your wedding gift, he informed me of his cousin's marriage to one of the Stark lads."

Dany scoffed, "So she married into the family which betrayed my own and Jorah, what of it?" She sat next to him. "It's a terrible disappointment, but might bring the Starks back into the fold when we reach Westeros."

"Except he's not a Stark. In blood yes, but not in name."

"Then what is he?"

"A Targaryen, Your nephew to be exact," He watched as the blood drained from her face. "Prince Rhaegar married Lyanna Stark all those years ago, and Lord Dayne's cousin married their son."

"I thought he kidnapped Lyanna Stark."

"So did I, but it never sat well with me or your mother. Rhaegar was too kind and too noble, but Edric received a letter all those years ago from his uncle, Lord Arthur Dayne, which confirmed this as truth. And he also said this man carries the Targaryen looks."

"Silver hair and violet eyes?"

"No, lilac at the most and Stark black hair. But he is apparently the exact image of Rhaegar."

Daenerys lept to her feet, "So you mean to say, this man-"

"Jon or Jaehaerys."

"_Jon_ is my nephew. The true Targaryen heir who is also married to this Dayne woman-"

"Myria."

"Myria. And everything Viserys had been trying to reclaim was not even his by right?"

"Yes."

Daenerys paced around the room as she sorted through this new information, "Then Westeros is no longer my worry, my family is. But if my family ever needs aid, providing his coin falls to the correct side, I will gladly offer what I can."

"A wise decision, my Queen."

Dany smiled, "Princess, technically."

"My princess. A lone dragon is a sorrowful thing in this world."

Dany placed her hand upon her stomach, "It certainly is, but we aren't alone anymore."


	21. Chapter 21

Sansa sighed as she ran her needle through the silk in her lap as Septa Mordane watched on sewing her piece of embroidery. The red-headed girl had spent the last few weeks soaking in her ennui, and the sudden arrival of her half-brother and new sister did little to help her mood. She loved Myria for certain, but ever since their appearance the Queen had been keeping her darling prince. The fact that he was still upset with her did not help, and she had been trying to think of ways to apologize to Joffrey.

"You wear your hair like a real Southern lady now," And there was the Septa.

Sansa scoffed, "Well why shouldn't I?"

The faithful woman adjusted in her seat, "It's important to remember where you come from," She glanced at the 13-year-old girl with a sharp look. "I'm not sure your mother would not like these new styles."

"My mother is from the South."

"I am aware of that, but-"

"Why do you even care?" The girl interrupted. "Do you even have hair under there?" She gestured to the shawl all Septas of the Seven wore.

Mordane continued to stitch her pattern, "Yes, I have hair."

"I've never seen it."

"Would you like to?"

"No." The two females let silence fall over them as they resumed their embroidery.

Sansa glanced at the older woman, "Where are you from anyway? The North or the South?"

The Septa smiled, "I come from a very small village near-"

"I just realized I don't care."

"Sansa," she scolded. "You are being rude."

Before Sansa could rebuff the woman sitting across from her footsteps sounded from the hall outside the sitting room the occupied. The Stark girl's smile widened when she caught the emerald green eyes of the crown prince.

She quickly rose from her seat as he approached and bowed, "My prince."

Joffrey smirked at the girl and bowed toward her after she had risen, "My lady. I fear I have behaved monstrously the past few weeks." He lifted his hand and Sansa lightly gasped at the sight of a solid gold lion pendant resting in his palm. "With your permission?" She quickly turned around and blushed as she felt his hands brush the back of her neck as he attached the clasp of the necklace.

"It's beautiful!" She turned to face her fiance. "Like the one your mother wears."

"You'll be Queen someday it's only fitting you should look the part," The teenaged boy glanced at the floor. "Will you forgive me for my rudeness?"

Sansa's pale blue eyes gleamed, "There's nothing to forgive."

The prince nodded, "You're my lady. One day we'll be married in the Great Sept of Baelor. Lords and Ladies from all over the Seven Kingdoms will come; from the Last Hearth in the North to the Salt Shore in the South and you will be Queen of all of them." He gently grasped her hand. "I'll never disrespect you again. I'll never be cruel to you again, do you understand me?"

She nodded and the blonde prince placed his hand upon her cheek, "You're my lady now from this day until my last day." He leaned in and lightly kissed her and the Septa glanced away from the intimate act.

The prince then bowed to the noble lady and swept from the room with a gleeful smile, his mother was certainly correct about the foolish mindset of the stupid girl.

Sansa blushed as her prince left and wandered back to her chair. She continued to sew her design into the lovely silk and the Septa eyed her as she also quietly resumed her own project. The two women continued to work for a time until they once again were drawn away from their work by the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Sansa perked up, hoping Joffrey had returned but furrowed her brows when Jon came rushing into the room.

"Sansa, Septa. Father needs to speak with you right away."

Sansa glared at her half-brother but rose from her seat gracefully while the older woman frowned at the worried look in the man's eyes.

"Whatever is the matter, Lord Stark?" Sansa scoffed at her family name being spoken towards the bastard.

"Father has been attacked, not even ten minutes ago."

Sansa's blood froze at the dark tone in Jon's voice and she quickly rushed after him as he led the two females through the Tower of the Hand and into Lord Eddard's bedchamber. Sansa caught sight of her injured father in bed with Arya and Myria on the right-hand side of the large piece of furniture.

"Father! What happened?" Eddard smiled at the sight of his oldest daughter.

"He was attacked by Jamie Lannister in the lower streets of King's Landing," Myria muttered with a grim expression on her face. "The Maester says his leg will survive, but he will walk with a limp."

"Nevermind that," Ned waved off the worried looks his daughters gave him. "Pack up your things girls, you are leaving today with Myria and Jon."

"What!?"

"Why!?"

The adults cringed at the high pitched whines from both girls, "Can we take Syrio with us? I've just started getting good!"

"Oh, who cares about your stupid dancing teacher!" Sansa wailed. "I can't leave my darling Joffrey!"

"Sansa, I promise when we are back in the North I will find you a kind Lord for a husband-"

"I don't want a Lord! I want my prince!"

Myria moved around the room and placed a hand on the 13-year-old's shoulder, "I know you care for the crown prince, but this is your family. And family _always_ comes first."

Sansa shook her head, "But I'm supposed to be Queen! And I'll give Joffrey little lion babies."

"Their family's sigil is the stag," the youngest Stark pointed out.

Her sister sneered, "My Joffrey is nothing like that drunk old stag, he is a proud and fierce lion and I will give him little golden-haired babes."

Arya's eyes widen, "Seven Hells."

Sansa opened her mouth to argue more, but her father sat up in bed and shot both of his daughters a disappointed look. "Both of you are going to return to your rooms and pack immediately." Both girls sighed but followed the quiet Septa as she led them back to their own personal chambers. Jon and Myria turned to Lord Stark after the girls had left and observed the confused look upon his face.

"What is it?"

Eddard glanced at Jon, "Bring me that book will you." Jon turned and picked up a large book from the table on the other end of the room.

"Lineage and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms?" Jon handed the large tome over to his uncle and watched as the older man flipped through the book until he reached the section on the Baratheon family.

"Lord Orys Baratheon, Black of hair. Axel Baratheon, black of hair. Lyonel Baratheon, black of hair. Steffon Baratheon, black of hair. Robert Baratheon, black of hair. Joffrey Baratheon, golden-haired." Eddard's face paled as he realized the gravity of the situation and he turned to his nephew and Myria, "You both need to take the girls and get far from this place."

"We already know Lord Stark, but you must come with us," The Dornish woman frowned when her liege lord shook his head. "The Queen will have you killed before you can even get close to informing the King of her treachery."

"Is that what happened to your uncle, Jon Arryn?"

Myria sighed, "I do not know, but I know for certain the Queen was truly shocked to learn of his sudden illness and even more sudden death. And if we suddenly leave with both of your daughters, especially Sansa, the whole Keep will want an explanation."

Jon raised his brow, "But they are our family."

Ned sighed, "But she is still engaged to Joffrey, Myria is correct. The Queen will want to know why I insist she leaves, but you can take Arya. Then I will leave later with Sansa." Jon nodded at Lord Stark's words and then started to leave the room to collect his little sister.

"You will have to hold your knowledge until this little skirmish with the Lannister family is over."

Ned raised his brows at the Dayne, "Why is that? Robert has a right to know his children are not legitimate or even his."

"Because," The Dornish woman sat on the side of the bed. "Your words will be twisted into a political grab for power, Cersei will make it seem like you are a traitor to the crown. So, you must wait until Tyrion is back with his family and the Lannisters have been appeased before you rip them apart."

"And allow my honor to be besmirched by allowing this to stay quiet?"

"Lord Stark, when you play the game of thrones: you win or you die."

"You're still alive."

Myria chuckled and rose from the bed, "Yes, but I have been playing my whole life and have no intention to stop unless I want myself and my family to wither into dust." With her statement, she swept from the room and headed towards Arya's bedchambers. She reached the door and knocked lightly and waited until Arya creaked the door open.

"Did father say we could bring Syrio? I don't care about what Sansa says he's an amazing teacher."

The woman giggled, "yes, I know my old master is quite skilled, but no. We are leaving today."

Arya huffed but moved to let Myria enter the room and picked up another dress to toss into her chest. "Sansa's not going to like that."

"It just you, me, and Jon going. Sansa and your father will leave later."

Arya smiled, "Then we will have far more fun, don't you think Ria?"

"Perhaps," The black-haired woman turned to leave the room. "Will you be ready soon?" The eleven-year-old girl nodded. Myria stepped towards the doorway but stopped when she noticed Jon walking up to the room with their bags in his arms. "Guess we are leaving now Arya."

Jon and a Stark guard entered the room, collected the bags, and led the way to the outer courtyard of the Red Keep. The small group of Stark members wandered to the royal stables and Myria placed her bag onto the back of her honey-colored mare. Then she attached Arya's bags to a smaller white-haired stallion and helped the girl onto the horse. She turned and let a sad smile form onto her face as she glanced up at the keep only letting Jon's hand encompassing hers snap her out of her nostalgia.

"Ready?" Jon whispered into her ear.

"Yes, but there is something I must do first."

Jon pulled back and helped his wife onto her horse before getting on his own and followed her with Arya next to him as she led them through the city's roads. The small group of horses halted outside a blacksmith's shop on Steel Street, and the black-haired woman hopped off her horse and smoothed out her skirt before entering the shop. The smell of soot and molten metal filled the air as she made her way to an older man sitting at a table looking over scratched over sums scattered onto a crumpled piece of parchment. Myria had never enjoyed the company of Tolbo Mott, the owner of the smithery, but she knew she would have to appear amicable to the man.

Mott's eyes stuck to the scribbles until he caught sight of pale blue silk slippers on the ground and his eyes trailed upward to the sight of Lady Myria, a common visitor to his shop. "Ah m'lady, how may I help you on this fine day?" The dark-haired woman smiled at the false positivity laced in his voice.

"I came to see Gendry," She sighed as Mott tensed at her request. "I know he visited a few days ago, but I am heading out of the city and wished to say goodbye."

Tolbo raised his brow at the highborn, "Heading back North are you?" He watched as the petite woman nodded her head. "Perhaps you could take the bastard with you, I fired him this morning and he was planning on heading to the Night's Watch with some man, Yoren? I believe." Myria frowned at his words but concealed it well when she saw the black hair of her friend as he stepped into the front room with a knapsack over his shoulder and his bull helmet in his hand.

"Myria? What are you doing here?" Gendry asked.

"Looking for you Gendry, and since you are planning on heading North you can come with me as I make my way back to Winterfell." The thirteen-year-old opened his mouth to protest, but a sharp look from his old friend silenced his thoughts. "I won't take no for an answer. If you are heading to the Wall then you should do it with the Starks."

The Dornish woman let a small smile fall onto her face when she received a nod of agreement from the blue-eyed boy. Once they both had exited the shop and claimed horses from the small travel group they raced through the city to the Old Gate. Myria let out a sigh of relief as they rode away from the mess of King's Landing, and let her harsh grip on her sheathed sword lessen.

At least she had these small victories, but she knew their luck would not last forever.


	22. Chapter 22

Cersei had never worried this much in her entire life, but ever since the Starks had butted into it her family had been torn asunder. Her wretched brother, Tyrion, lay captured by the crazy lady of House Arryn, her father stayed on the front lines in the Riverlands to squash the Tully skirmishes, and Jaime. Sweet Jaime was taken from her and sent to aid their father in the fighting. At least her children were safe, and now that the pesky Dayne girl had left again Myrcella and Tommen would stop asking for her. She had been far too lenient with the girl when she was younger, she should have never let her sink her claws into her cubs at all. Now her younger children cry out her name when they have nightmares, they wish she was there to tell them stories, and they want her kisses when they scrape their knees.

Joffrey still hated the harlot and she was grateful for that, but he was doomed to marry that boorish Stark child. Hopefully, she would make a better puppet for use when her son sits on the throne. That silly witch from her childhood had been wrong when she claimed, "_You'll be Queen for a time and comes another. Younger, more beautiful to cast you down and take all you hold dear." _Sansa was no great beauty at all, simply a child who wishes for more than she will ever be able to grasp.

Many years ago she once thought Myria would be that very threat since many claimed she was one of the greatest beauties in the realm when she flowered at fourteen years. But now she is stuck in the North with a legitimized bastard, which was as far from the Iron Throne as she could get.

"My Queen?" Cersei glanced over to the doorway of her solar to see a pitiful maid gazing at the floor while wringing her hands together.

"What is it?"

The girl jumped a little at the harsh tone, "Lord Stark asks for your company in the gardens. If it pleases you, Your Highness." The blonde woman nodded and waved the terrified girl away. How a feeble woman like that worked in the palace was a wonder to her. It wasn't her problem anyway, and after adjusting her pinned back hair she rose from her vanity and walked from the room.

She slowly made her way through the halls, if Lord Stark wished to speak to her then he would do it on her time. She smiled as she past Myrcella and Tommen walking down the hall, but frowned as they failed to pull their eyes away from the book they were reading to notice their mother. Cersei pushed down her feelings of pain and continued to the gardens. Once she reached the gardens she wandered through the elaborately designed shrubbery and flower beds until she caught the form of Lord Eddard sitting on a stone bench on the side of a small fountain.

She approached him and wrapped her pale pink shawl closer to her body, "You're in pain." She gestured to the cane sitting next to his leg.

Ned glanced up at the Queen and stood to greet her, leaning on the cane she condescendingly pointed out, "I've had worse, My Lady."

Cersei smirked, "Perhaps it's time to go home. The South doesn't seem to agree with you."

"I know the truth Jon Arryn died for," Ned watched as the smirk fell from the Lannister's face.

"Do you, Lord Stark? Is why you called me here? To pose me riddles?"

Ned raised his hand and tapped the side of his face, "Has he done this before?"

The Queen reflexively brought her hand up to the bruise on her cheek her husband had lovingly given her the day before, "Jaime would've killed him," She glanced at the ground. "My brother's worth a thousand of your friend."

"Your brother, or your lover?"

A pregnant pause filled the air and the nobles held eye contact until the lion pulled her eyes away from the direwolf and turned her head, "The Targaryens wed brothers and sisters for three hundred years to keep bloodlines pure. Jaime and I are more than brother and sister, we shared a womb, came into this world together, we belong together."

"My son saw you with him."

Cersei and Ned both remained stone-faced at the accusation thrown at the royal until she smiled.

"Do you love your children?"

"With all my heart."

"No more than I love mine."

"And they're all Jaime's."

The Queen scoffed, "Thank the Gods. In the rare event that Robert leaves his whores for long enough to stumble drunk into my bed, I finish him off in other ways. In the morning he doesn't remember."

"You've always hated him."

She raised her brow, "Hated him? I _worshipped_ him. Every girl in the Seven Kingdoms dreamed of him, but it was mine by oath," She let a small smile fall onto her lips. "And when I saw him on our wedding day in the Sept of Baelor lean and fierce and black-bearded it was the happiest moment of my life." The smile faded from her face. "And that night he crawled on top of me stinking of wine and did what he did, what little he could do. And whispered in my ear "Lyanna." Your sister was a corpse and I was a living girl and he loved her more than me."

Lord Stark glanced at the ground," When the King returns from his hunt I'll tell him the truth. You must be gone by then, you and your children. I will not have their blood on my hands. Go as far away as you can, with as many men as you can because wherever you go, Robert's wrath will follow you."

"And what of my wrath, Lord Stark?" She asked. "You should have taken the realm for yourself. Jaime told me about the day King's Landing fell. He was sitting in the Iron Throne and you made him give it up. All you needed to do was climb the steps yourself, such a sad mistake."

"I've made many mistakes in my life, but that wasn't one of them."

She shook her head, "Oh, but it was. When you play the game of thrones you win, or you die. There is no middle ground." With her words, so alike to the ones Myria echoed in his ear not even a day ago, she left with a sweep of her dress. He waited until the Queen had wandered far enough before returning to the seat he had taken before. He knew the game he was playing was dangerous and was happy one of his daughters was safe from its clutches, but Sansa was still within the walls of the Keep and still so naive to the danger they were in. Not even an hour after Jon and Myria had sequestered Arya out of the city did he have to sit on the throne and listen to his wife's family be accused of crimes the Mountain had committed.

He sighed but stood and finally left the peace of the garden behind him in the hope of finding his daughter. As he limped through the Keep many bowed to him as they passed in the halls, but Ned just ignored the pity and intrigued the court members gave him. While he wandered to the Tower of the Hand he caught sight of Lord Petyr Baelish as the tall man strode through the hall, and quickly ducked behind a corner hall to avoid the sly man's gaze. As he was about to continue on his detour he heard a voice call out for the very man he was going through so much trouble to avoid.

"Lord Baelish," Ned turned to see a glimpse of fine silk robes as the male voice addresses the Master of Coin.

"Ah the Spider, how may I help you Lord Varys?"

"Simply asking how my friend is doing on this fine day, is that not allowed?"

Baelish laughed lightly, "We both know you rarely make time for small talk, why start now?"

"Fair," Varys' voice became quieter. "I was wondering how the Lannisters are holding up with the skirmishes against the Riverlands since I have heard that Tyrion has been released from the Eyrie. I would have thought the Old Lion would stop his advances for the betterment of the realm."

"Varys all you speak of is the realm," Baelish scoffed. "Why would Tywin stop when he can put the Riverlands in a vice grip for the crown."

"A vice grip he does aim for, but I doubt it's for the crown."

Baelish sighed, "All I am aware of is Tywin demands reconciliation for the capture of his son, perhaps if Lord Stark had his wife send Lady Lysa Arryn to the capital to ask for forgiveness all would be better?"

Lord Stark frowned at the man's words and limped along his path away from the private conversation. Myria said he was not to be trusted, but if he offered such sound advice to the Master of Whispers then he must have some faith in the system of justice. And Cat vouched for him, but Ned could not get the warning from Jon's wife out of his mind for some reason. It seemed as if she only advised warning and riddles, quite odd of a woman who seemed so sweet and naive. The Northern Lord had barely reached the top of the stairwell to his family's chambers when a guard from his household came to his side with an issue for him to address. He nodded his head and decided to talk to Sansa later when the sound of rushing footsteps caught his attention.

"Ned!" He turned to see Renly Baratheon running towards him out of breath, "It's Robert, we were out hunting...a boar and I..I." He stuttered through his sentence, but Lord Stark frowned at the fear in his voice. The young stag beckoned for the Hand to follow and he did.

Ned had never run so fast in his life even with his injured leg, his King, his friend, was injured. He stopped running when he reached the crowd of people around the door to the King's chambers and shoved the gossiping lot out of his way as he entered the room.

The smell of death was pungent in the air and Ned frowned at the sight of his old friend lying in his bed covered in his blood. Prince Joffery sat at his father's side with a tearful look upon his face while the Queen stood quietly by the foot of the bed. Grand Maester Pycelle acknowledged the hand's arrival with a small bow before turning back to the King.

"Go on," Robert weakly whispered to the prince. "You don't want to see this." Joffrey rose from his spot on the bed and quickly fled from the room. Ned stepped closer to the bed while Robert laughed, "My fault, too much wine. Missed my thrust." Ned pulled back the blankets and frowned at the gaping hole in his friend's side. "Stinks," Ned pulled the blankets back up at Robert's word. "Stinks like death. Don't think I can't smell it. I paid the bastard back, Ned. I drove my knife right through his brain. You ask him if I didn't. Ask him."

He gestured to Renly and Ser Barristan who had been standing in the corner of the room out of Ned's sight. Both men sighed and Ned knew the answer without asking. "I want the funeral feast to be the biggest the kingdom's ever seen. And I want everyone to taste the boar that got me." Lord Stark nodded slightly and Robert turned his attention to the others in the room. "Leave us, the lot of you. I need to talk to Ned."

Cersei stepped toward her dying husband, "Robert, my sweet-"

"Out! All of you!" He coughed while he ordered the crowd to leave the room. Cersei shot Eddard a cold look before she and the rest of the small group left the room and shut the door behind them.

Ned took a seat on the side of the bed, "You damned fool."

"Paper and ink on the table, write down what I say," Ned sighed but collected the items and returned to his seat by Robert's side. "In the name of Robert of House Baratheon, First of his...you know how it goes, fill in the damned titles. Hereby command Eddard of House Stark...titles, titles...to serve as Lord Regent and Protector of the Realm upon my death to rule in my stead until my son, Joffrey, comes of age." Ned wrote everything down to the word except he wrote 'my rightful heir' in place of Joffrey's name. "Give it over." Ned passed the parchment and Robert swiftly signed his name under the decree. "Give it to the council after I'm dead. At least they'll say I did this thing right. This one thing. You'll rule now. You'll hate it worse than I did, but you'll do it well." Robert grasped Ned's hand, "The girl, Daenerys. You were right. Varys, Littlefinger, my brother: worthless. No one to tell me 'no' but you. Only you. Let her live, stop it if it's not too late."

"I will."

"My son, help him, Ned. Make him better than me."

Ned glanced at the ground as guilt filled his heart, "I'll...I'll do everything I can to honor your memory."

Robert laughed, "My memory. King Robert Baratheon, murdered by a pig," He coughed and shuddered. "Give me something for the pain, and let me die."

Ned nodded to his friend and solemnly left the room. He glanced at the group waiting outside and addressed Pycelle, "Give him milk of the poppy." The maester and Renly went back into the room while the rest of the small council waited outside of the doors.

Ser Barristan Selmy sighed, "He was reeling from the wine, he commanded us to step aside but...I failed him."

Lord Stark shook his head, "No man could have protected him from himself."

"I wonder Ser Barristan," Varys spoke up from the corner of the room. "Who gave the King this wine?"

"His squire, from the King's own skin."

"His squire?" Eddard pondered. "The Lannister boy?" Barristan nodded.

"Such a dutiful boy to make sure His Grace did not lack refreshment. I do hope the poor lad does not blame himself."

The three men shared an icy glance before Ned spoke again, "His Grace has had a change of heart concerning Daenerys Targaryen. Whatever arrangements you've made unmake them at once."

"I'm afraid those birds have flown. The girl is likely dead already." The Northern man glared at the eunuch before turning and heading slowly back to his chambers to inform his household of the events which he laid witness to. After he had spoken quickly to his daughter and household staff he and a few of his guards went down the tower towards the council room when they caught the eye of Lord Renly."

"Lord Stark, a moment?" Ned paused as Renly walked over to him and his men. "Alone if you will?" Ned nodded and his men walked away from the two nobles. "He named you Protector of the Realm?"

"He did."

"She won't care, give me an hour and I can put a hundred swords at your command."

"And what should I do with a hundred swords?"

"Strike," Renly stated as if it was the most obvious answer. "Tonight while the castle sleeps. We must get Joffrey away from his mother and into our custody. Protector of the Realm or no, he who holds the King holds the kingdom. Every moment you delay gives Cersei another moment to prepare. By the time Robert dies, it will be too late for the both of us."

"What about Stannis?"

"Saving the Seven Kingdoms from Cersei and delivering them to Stannis? You have odd notions about protecting the realm."

"Stannis is your older brother," Renly scoffed at the Northern Lord's logic.

"This isn't about the bloody line of succession. That didn't matter when you rebelled against the Mad King, it shouldn't matter now. What's best for the kingdoms? What's best for the people we rule? We all know what Stannis is. He inspires no love or loyalty. He's not a king. I am."

Ned stared down the Baratheon and noticed the power lust in his eyes. "Stannis is a commander. He's led men into war twice, he destroyed the Greyjoy fleet-"

"Yes, he's a good soldier. Everyone knows that, so was Robert," Renly snapped. "Tell me something, do you still believe good soldiers make good kings?"

"I will not dishonor Robert's last hours by shedding blood in his halls and dragging frightened children from their beds." Ned then signaled his men to follow as he strode past the angered Lord of Storm's End.

Early the next morning the bells rang throughout the city alerting everyone to the death of the King. Lord Stark wandered through the halls with his Household guard and stopped when he caught sight of Lord Baelish and Varys standing by the Commander of the City's Watch, Janos Slynt.

"We stand behind you, Lord Stark." Ned nodded to the commander and Baelish for his swift accommodation of the Watch. The group then opened the large doors and swept into the throne room.

"All hail His Grace, Joffrey of Houses Baratheon and Lannister, first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm," Ned observed the vast amount of Lannister guards standing throughout the throne room as well as all seven of the King's Guard standing by the foot of the Iron Throne where Joffrey had seated himself. He slowly stepped closer to the throne and made eye contact with Cersei sitting in a chair to the right hand of her son.

Joffrey stared a Lord Stark and the council members behind the man, "I command the council to make all the necessary arrangements for my coronation. I wish to be crowned within the fortnight. Today I shall accept oaths of fealty from my loyal council members."

Lord Stark kept his eyes on Joffrey, "Ser Barristan, I believe no man here could ever question your honor." He pulled the sealed letter Robert had him write the day before out of his belt pocket and passed it towards the Commander of the King's Guard.

The older man walked down the steps of the dais and grasped thee outheld parchment, "King Robert's seal, unbroken," He opened the letter and read it out loud. "Lord Eddard Stark is herein named Protector of the Realm, to rule as regent until the heir come of age." Joffrey shot a glance from the knight to his mother.

"May I see that letter Ser Barristan.?" He passed the parchment to the Queen Mother." Protector of the Realm? This is meant to be your shield, Lord Stark? A piece of paper?" She smirked and ripped the letter in half.

"Those were the King's words."

"We have a new King now," Lord Stark glared at the Lannister woman. "Lord Eddard when we last spoke you offered me some counsel, allow me to return the courtesy: Bend the knee, my Lord. Bend the knee and swear loyalty to my son, and we shall allow you to live out your days in the gray waste you call home."

Ned shook his head, "Your son has no claim to the throne."

"Liar!" Joffrey cried.

Cersei let a soft smile fall onto her face, "You condemn yourself with your own mouth Lord Stark. Ser Barrristan, seize this traitor."

Ser Barristan reluctantly stepped forward toward the Lord and the crowd of City Watch, "Ser Barristan is a good man, a loyal man. Do him no harm."

"You think he stands alone?" At Cersei's words, the Lannister guards unsheathed their swords and pointed them towards the Northern man and the City Watch.

Joffrey jumped to his feet at the sound of steel, "Kill him! Kill all of them, I command it!"

"Commander," Janos Slynt glanced at Lord Stark. "Take the Queen and her children into custody. Escort them back to the royal apartments and keep them there under guard."

"Men of the watch," The City's watch raised their weapons at their Commander's words. Lord Stark's men ready their weapons towards the Lannister men.

"I want no bloodshed," Ned said to the Lannisters. "Tell your men to lay down their swords. No one needs to die."

Cersei shifted her eyes to the City's Watch Commander and watched as he cried out, "Now!" The men of the City's Watch turned their weapons not to the Lannisters, but to the Stark men and began to attack the Northerns swiftly and violently. Lord Stark turned around in shock and watched as his men were impaled and hacked at by the men they thought stood by them. The few Northern men not caught by surprise attempted to fight back, but with the City's Watch on their side, the Lannisters quickly began to dispatch the rest of Ned's loyal men.

Ned pulled his blade to fight his way out when a dagger was pressed against his neck and his arm was grasped tightly. His eyes widened when Baelish's voice caught his ear, "I did warn you not to trust me."


	23. Chapter 23

_Robb, I write to you with a heavy heart. Our good King Robert is dead, killed from wounds he took in a boar hunt. Father has been charged with treason. He conspired with Robert's brothers against my beloved Joffrey and tried to steal his throne. The Lannisters are treating me very well and provide me with every comfort. I beg you: come to King's Landing, swear fealty to King Joffrey and prevent any strife between the great houses of Lannister and Stark._

_Your faithful sister, Sansa_

Robb glared at the raven's scroll Maester Luwin had given to him not even a moment ago. "Treason?" He raised his eyes back to the aging man. "Sansa wrote this?"

The Maester nodded his head, "It is your sister's hand, but the Queen's words. You're summoned to King's Landing to swear fealty to the new King."

Robb sneered at his words, "Joffrey puts my father in chains and now he wants his ass kissed?'

Luwin sighed, "This is a royal command, my Lord. If you should refuse to obey-"

"I won't refuse," The acting Lord of Winterfell reread his sister's words and tightened his grip on the parchment as he caught the slight tremors in her near-perfect handwriting. "His Grace summons me to King's Landing, I will go to King's Landing. And not alone," He passed the summons back to the Maester. "Call the banners."

Theon smiled at his friend's words, but the older man simply raised his brow, "All of them, my Lord?"

"They've all sworn to defend my father, have they not?"

"They have."

Robb nodded, "I will see what they're words are worth," The older man nodded his head towards his young Lord. "And what of Jon, Myria, and Arya? They are not mentioned at all in this message." Robb furrowed his brows at the concerned look that began to overtake the Maester's face.

"I'm afraid we have not heard from either your brother or his wife since your mother left the Capital to travel to the Eyrie, but I will hold to the hope they left the city before your father was arrested. Otherwise we would have read of their imprisonment or the writing would be in one of their hands."

Maester Luwin then bowed to his Lord before walking from the room, the echoing of his Maester chains following his footsteps. Robb breathed a sigh of relief once he had left and had retaken his place at the table, his food long forgotten. Theon's eyes caught the worry etched in his auburn friend's eyes.

"You afraid?" Robb gazed at his friend and lowered his eyes to his trembling hands. Theon followed his gaze and nodded at the silent response.

"I must be."

"Good."

Robb raised his brow, "Why is that good?"

"Means your not stupid."

Robb grasped his hands together to quell the shaking and tried to focus on happier thoughts than the looming threat of war. Perhaps visiting Bran could improve his mood. He rose from his seat at the table, patted Theon's shoulder, and swept from the room. He quickly ascended the staircase towards his younger brother's room and smiled at the staff he passed while he wandered through the halls. He approached the open doorway slowly and paused at the sight of Bran sitting up on the bed with Old Nan in the chair Catelyn had used for her vigilance over the boy sewing as she regaled a story of the mysteries beyond the North to the small child.

"The white walkers aren't real Nan," Bran scoffed as the older woman.

She raised her brows at the boy, "And how do you know that? You are a summer child, you haven't even seen a true winter yet." The older servant paused in her conversation and rose from her seat when she caught Robb's eye. Robb smiled at the nursemaid and chuckled at the annoyed look upon his younger brother's face. Nan watched as the older brother slowly entered the room and took her place in the chair by Bran's bed, and quietly decided to give the family member's privacy.

"Old Nan's stories getting to you Bran?"

The boy shrugged, "I've heard them all before, and besides I think she's trying to scare me with them since I can't run off like other kids."

"Ah, well all stories have an ounce of truth to them and important lessons woven into the words," Robb smirked at the confused face of his little brother. "At least that's what father told me once." Bran nodded while grasping the sheets as he mulled over his older brother's explanation.

"Is father okay? I heard the servants whispering and I caught his name."

Robb sighed, "I'm afraid our father is in a bad position. The Lannisters have arrested him and they claim their reason as treason."

"But Robb, Father is an honorable man! He wouldn't-" Bran paused when Robb's large hand encased his small one and carefully untangled it from the blanket.

"I know this, you this, and the North knows this. That is why I have called the banners to free father from their cruel grip," He lightly tightened his grip on Bran's hand. "The Northern lords will be here later tonight and then we will set out to avenge this great injustice."

The injured boy frowned at his words, "So you're leaving too."

"I must, an army needs a leader."

"Why can't Jon lead? He's a Stark, and father taught you both of strategies."

He shook his head, "I do not know where Jon is at this time. No one does."

"How come?!" Robb jerked back at the boy's sudden yelp.

"The last we heard of him or Myria was when she informed us mother was leaving the Capital to visit the Eyrie. That raven came over two weeks ago and we have not heard from either of them since." The younger boy's face paled at the thought of his oldest brother being lost. Jon was always so quiet and smart, surely he was fine. Perhaps he was on his way home right now, or he was heading to Dorne possibly? Myria does have family there and it is closer to the Capital. But what if he was hurt, or captured, or...or dead. "Brandon, get out of your head," Gray eyes shot to blue. "Jon is the smartest out of all of us, he knows he can't send a raven that could be intercepted on its way here. I bet he's almost home."

Shuddering breath escaped Bran's quivering lips, "You're right Robb, I'm just worried."

"I am too, Bran. But I have faith in our family." Robb pulled his little brother into his arms and rubbed his back as he pretended to not notice the small patch of his jerkin slowly become wet with Bran's tears. Gods he wished his father and mother were sitting in his father's solar waiting to share advice. He wished his sisters were down the hall yelling at each other over some stupid sewing lesson. He wished Myria was here to scoff at Theon's stupid flirting, and to laugh at Jon's very obvious jealousy.

But wishing wouldn't save his family, action would.

He spent a few more moments with Bran consoling him and promising the safe return of all of their missing family members before he slipped away to repeat the news to little Rickon. Robb would never admit it, but the heartwrenching wails his littlest brother produced broke something inside of him. Mother or Myria would know just how to cheer him up, but Robb awkwardly sat next to the six-year-old as he clung to him and begged for his big brother to stay. Only the calm hands of Myria's Lady in Waiting were able to assuage the storm of tears pouring from his river blue eyes. Robb mournfully stepped from the room at Willow's insistence and slowly made his way to his father's solar to prepare for the arrival of the bannermen.

He supposed it would be his solar at the moment until his father was freed. Unless...no, no. His father would have his solar back once he returned home. All Robb had to do was instruct the staff to prepare for a small banquet for the Lords and read the responses when Maester Lewin returned with them. Logically he knew some of the Lords would not be able to make it in person in a single day, White Harbor for example was a three days ride. But many Lords that could make the ride were expected to arrive the coming day with stragglers joining the next few days before the mass of the North began to march South. Northern houses of longer distances, like the Reeds or the Forresters, would send a written reply of their fealty to the North, and the Starks, before joining up with the Northern army as they migrated south towards the Capital. Hopefully all of the major houses would agree with the injustice of their Liege Lord's imprisonment and join in the cause. The only house Robb was suspicious about was the Boltons, but they were a peculiar and cruel bunch.

But Robb's worry and insecurities hung over his head like a black rain cloud the rest of the day and well into the next. Greeting the lords as they arrived seemed a somber affair to the nineteen-year-old man, but he attempted to ignore his woes instead for a more agreeable visage for the spiritful lords as they filled the great hall with their rowdiness and merriment as they reunited with old friends and started to regale heroic tales of the last time they were summoned for battle. Robb sat at the head of the great table with Greywind laying by his feet and Theon and Bran sitting by his side. The higher lords sat further down the long table with their men filling up the rest of the hall. Robb pretended to be invested in the story revolving around the Greyjoy rebellion that Lord Glover and Lady Mormont were laughing about when a booming voice cut through the din of the hall.

"For 30 years I've been making corpses out of men, boy," Robb's Tully eyes turned to the voice and focused on the prideful look resting on Greatjon Umber's face. "I'm the man you want leading the vanguard."

Theon and Bran glanced their eyes back between the pair sitting on opposite ends of the table as Robb answered back, "Galbert Glover will lead the van."

The older Lord scoffed and shrugged his shoulders, "The bloody wall will melt before an Umber marches behind a Glover!" He squared his shoulders towards Robb. "I will lead the van or I will take my men and march them home."

Robb curled his right hand over his left as he let Greatjon's words seep into his head. The older man glanced at the Stark's face and smirked, thinking he had intimidated the younger Lord well enough to get his way.

"You are welcome to so do, Lord Umber," Robb began as he slowly raised from his seat. "And when I am done with the Lannisters, I will march back North, root you out of your keep, and hang you for an oathbreaker."

"Oathbreaker is it?!" Lord Umber yelled as he jumped to his feet. "I will not sit here and swallow insults from a boy so green he pisses grass." He spat as he fumbled for the sword on his belt. Theon swiftly reached for the dagger hidden in his cloak, but before either man could unsheathe their weapons Greywind leaped from his spot by his master's side, ran across the table, and jumped onto the large man who threatened Robb.

Men jumped to their feet when the direwolf suddenly attacked the Lord. The hall was silent as Greatjon cried out in pain and Greywind growled as he bit further into the man's hand which reached for the blade. The large beast tugged harshly with his clamped jaw and Lord Umber wailed as two of his fingers were ripped from his hand. He sluggishly sat up as he gripped his bleeding limb with his uninjured hand.

Robb's voice cut through the silence, "My lord father taught me it was death to bare steel against you Liege Lord," The older Lord tensed at the emotionless words which slipped from the Stark. "But doubtless the Greatjon only meant to cut my meat for me."

The Umber glared and kicked his chair away from the table, attempting to release his anger. "Your meat..." He huffed and glanced around at the tense and disappointed looks he received from other Lords standing around him. He raised his bloody and managed hand, "is bloody tough."

Umber laughed when he saw the smile cross his Lord's face and suddenly the whole of the hall erupted into vigorous laughter at the Greatjon's dry humor from the entire affair. The dinner continued as normal after Maester Lewin had wrapped Lord Umber's hand and the men continued to discuss battle plans and strategies.

Bran sat wide-eyed at the whole affair which splayed out in front of his very eyes. He supposed events like this were why many Southerns thought men of the North were uncivilized and brutish. Near the end of the dinner Hodor came and carried him to his chambers where Willow assisted him into bed before she went to check once more on Rickon. Bran let his eyes flutter shut and he was about to fall into slumber when a hand on his shoulder abruptly woke him.

"What is it? What happened?" Bran asked when he caught sight of Robb once more sitting by his bedside.

"It's all right."

Bran glanced at his older brother and frowned at the full Northern attire he was dressed in, "Where are you going?"

"I told you yesterday, South. For Father."

"But it's the middle of the night, I thought you would leave in the morning."

"The Lannisters have spies everywhere. I don't want them to know we're coming."

Bran grimaced, "They have more men than we do."

"Aye, they do."

The boy sat up as he gazed at his brother, "Can't I come with you? I can ride now. You've seen me riding. And I won't get in the way…"

Robb shook his head, "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell," He sighed as he repeated the words their mother said to him. "Until I return that will be you. You are not to leave the castle walls while we are gone. Do you understand?"

Bran nodded his head at the serious tone in Robb's voice.

"Listen to Maester Luwin. Look after your little brother."

"I will."

"I'll send letters whenever I can, but if you don't hear from me, don't be scared." Robb leaned over and engulfed his brother into a tight hug, "Until I return." He then quietly left the room and allowed his brother to return to his slumber. Bran sat up when he heard footsteps not long after Robb's departure, but frowned when his younger brother stepped into the candlelight as opposed to the elder.

"How long have you been hiding out there?" Rickon stayed silent as he wandered into his brother's room. "Robb will be looking for you, to say goodbye."

"They've all gone away."

Bran sighed, "They'll be back soon. Robb will free Father and they'll come back with Mother."

Rickon shook his head at Bran's hopeful words, "No they won't." He then once more slipped away into the dark corridor.


	24. Chapter 24

Gendry sat by the dying fire using a stick to stoke the embers as he glanced around to observe the rest of the ragtag group he agreed to follow a week ago. To his left was Myria, his friend of over seven years, and her husband Jon was sitting to her left. He didn't know the man well, but after spending a week on the road he respected him. He was the one to suggest the large traveling group they had started with split up, to be able to move faster and less detected. The Stark guards had taken the King's Road and the small group of four he now traversed with stuck to the woods and hidden paths to avoid unwanted eyes.

Unconventional, but wise. As they had heard many in the small villages they past speak of the Lannister army moving through this very area. How Jaime Lannister's forces were laying siege to Riverrun and how his father's forces were attempting to reach the Northern army before they crossed the bridge at the Twins.

Jon had also been teaching Gendry to hunt, a skill he never knew he would need, but Jon insisted if he wanted to join the Night's Watch then he must be able to catch something. The Stark man was of few words, but what words he did use were kind and intelligent. He praised the black-haired boy for his learning capabilities instead of scolding him for mistakes like Tobho did when the bastard had begun his blacksmith training.

And to his right was the spitfire little sister of Jon, Arya. She had the looks of a highborn lady, though she would probably punch him if he ever said those words out loud. Not to say she looked on par with Myria, no. She dressed, argued, complained, and picked fights all as a boy would. But she had this air around her he couldn't quite pinpoint, perhaps it was her agreeableness when she was in a good mood? Or her intelligence a common girl or boy her age would not have?

He figured it didn't matter in the end. She was a highborn lady that didn't want to be one, even though it was a role many would kill to be. She simply wanted to be rid of it and got infuriated whenever the poor boy would call her anything close to "My lady."

Gendry personally found it hilarious to rile her up. She would always aim for his shins which was quite an easy attack to sidestep.

And now the group of four including himself were somewhere in the wilderness, sitting around a small fire to not draw attention to themselves. The group had quickly shed their fine garments at the start of the journey for clothing less obvious. Myria dressed in a rough brown dress with a small apron, appearing as a maid or cook of some sort, Jon without his Northern cloak or jerkin to appear more of a sellsword or a common traveler, and Arya in a rough tunic and ragged pants truly tied together with the belief she was a young boy. The only things out of place on the trio would be the two finely made swords attached to Jon and Myria's belts, the small thin sword Arya had dubbed "Needle" on her hip, and the leather bag around the Dornish woman's shoulders she had yet to take off.

Gendry himself only had the clothes on his back and a small knapsack of rations and a few of his personal belongings. The only time living as a bastard had done him any good in this world as it made it far easier for him to blend in than the other three.

"I don't suppose you'll ever tell me what's in your bag Myria?" The woman in question turned her head to glance at the blue-eyed boy.

"Doubt you would believe me if I told you what was in here, Gendry."

He shrugged, "Try me, I've got an open mind."

He caught a scoff to his right, "If my sister doesn't want to tell you, then she shouldn't have to." He glanced at the younger girl and smirked at the heated gaze she was shooting at him.

"Technically she's not your sister."

"Yes she is, she's married to Jon!"

"No," The bastard shook his head. "That makes her your sister-in-law, not your actual sister."

"Ugh, doesn't matter. You are so infuriating!" She jumped up from the ground. "Why did we even bring him with us?! It's not like he's helping at all."

"Have to say you're wrong there Arya," The angry she-wolf glared at her older brother. "He was the one who caught the rabbit we ate just now, so I'd say he is helpful."

"Stop defending him Jon! You're my brother, not his." Arya huffed as she paced around the campfire before stomping over to a tree nearby and angrily sitting down with her back against the trunk.

"So…Where exactly are we now?" Gendry pondered as the girl stewed in the corner of the clearing.

"Well," Jon began to answer as he pulled out a small, tattered map. "We're coming close to the Crossroads Inn, passed right by Harrenhal this morning. This means we are almost to the division between the Riverlands and the Vale. Will probably pass the Inn in the morning, hopefully, none of the Lannister soldiers have taken up roost there yet." The blacksmith nodded his head at the Northern man's answer.

Myria glanced at the map, "So hopefully we will reach Riverrun in the next few days."

"Aye."

Gendry let out a sigh of relief, it seemed the plan of traveling slyly may work out well. He shifted his bunched up cloak around on the ground to fix a somewhat passable pillow before laying down for the night. As he tried to relax he heard Arya rise from her place by the tree and rejoin them by the fire. He glanced up as Myria gestured to the young girl and the brunette grumpily shuffled over to her and laid down next to the Dornish woman. She quickly rolled over away from her sister-in-law, but relaxed when tan arms wrapped around her body. Movement from behind him caught his ear and he rolled to see Jon standing from his seat by the fire.

"Just going to keep watch," Gendry nodded.

"If you want you can wake me when you wish to sleep Jon." The man shrugged his shoulders.

"You need your rest Gendry."

"So do you."

The Stark glanced down at the boy with a smirk on his face, can't top that logic at all. He tilted his head in agreement and the blue-eyed boy rolled back over to settle in for the few hours of sleep he could get.

Sunlight crested over the horizon as the young boy awoke. He shot up from his resting place and pivoted his head around.

"Jon's asleep Gendry. And so should you, it's far too early." His eyes jutted to the tree Arya was by the night prior and locked gazes with amethyst eyes.

The boy quirked his brow, "Early for you too, Myria."

"Yes, I suppose."

"Seems like you and your husband are cut from the same stubborn cloth," He got a laugh out of her, or maybe more of a giggle. "Both agree with logic but refuse to listen to it."

"Never thought of it that way Gen," The dark-haired woman stretched her arms as she continued. "Just that Jon and I are trying to look out for you and Arya. You may have a cock between your legs, but I'm still older than you."

"My word," The boy gasped between his laughter. "Such vulgar language from a _lady_."

"We both know Arya's worse than me."

"What am I worse at?" The pair silenced their laughter when Arya's sleepy voice cut through the boisterous noise.

"Your language, dear sister."

Arya smiled, "Ha! See, Gendry. She said it," She leaped from the ground and ran to hug the Dornish woman. "_I'm_ her sister."

"Oh, of course, you are," He played along. "But that makes you a highborn, _My Lady_."

"Oh you are going to bloody get it!"

The bastard then had the smarts to jump up and run away from the rage of the small she-wolf as she barrelled after him. Myria observed the tomfoolery with a carefree smile upon her face. She was happy the eleven-year-old was able to still hold her spirit with her. As the two continued their roughhousing she swiftly rose from her nightly perch and wandered over to her sleeping husband, gently shaking him awake. The man's grey eyes fluttered open and he smiled when he was met with the face of his lovely wife.

"My lady wife," He slowly sat up as Myria began to pack up their small camp.

She smirked, "My lord husband. Arya and Gendry are already awake and trying to fight each other."

"Well, no surprise there Ria," He stretched his legs and snagged a piece of bread from his small pack full of rations. "How's everything else?"

She patted the leather bag that was practically fused to her hip, "Safe and secure," The dark-haired man let out a small sigh of relief as he wrapped his sword belt around his waist. "Hopefully we will be able to meet up with Robb's forces soon."

"I'm pretty sure we will reach Riverrun soon, seeing it is only a few days ride on the River Road once we stop following the King's Road," He shrugged his shoulders, "If not we'll simply find another way around the Lannister troops."

The Dornish woman quirked her brow, "You know there might be a faster way to pass through the troops instead of sneaking around them."

"What's your idea?"

"Well, both armies are attempting to size the other up at the moment," Myria began as Arya and Gendry finally joined the couple in breaking their fasts. "All we know for certain is Jaime Lannister and his troops are at Riverrun laying siege to it. So there will be no way to slip by his forces without being seen. But we also don't know precisely where Tywin's forces are situated between here and the Twins where Robb is at the moment."

"So we have to sneak by a giant army which would use the three of you as hostages," Gendry reasoned as he bit into an apple. "Sounds easy enough."

"Exactly," Arya added. "We just go up the Trident."

The blacksmith rolled his eyes, "That's completely wrong, Lannister forces would find us for sure."

"No, if they have a big army and started this fighting to get my mother to let Tyrion go then they would be closer to the Vale," She rebutted. "Which leaves the river mostly clear, duh."

"No, obviously they are already there if they want to stop your brother from crossing the Twins."

"But they can't-"

"Wait, Arya," Both adolescents paused their bickering at Jon's words. "He's right that soldiers will be on the King's Road around here if they want to head Robb off at the Twins." He raised his hand before the boy could make any sound of victory. "However, with the siege and the fact Tyrion is still somewhere in the Vale, Arya is correct. The fastest way is up the Trident."

"But the soldiers will most likely be watching the banks of the river closely, it's unsafe to travel that way," Gendry pointed out.

"No Jon and Arya are right," The three glanced at the tan hand gesturing to the map on the ground. "We literally go _up_ the Trident." She traced her finger from the small blue line of the Red Fork river, up through the Trident, and continued tracing the Green Fork river up until her finger landed on the Twins. She smirked as the young boy deflated at the soundness of the idea.

With their small discussion finished the group quickly packed the rest of their supplies and readied themselves for the journey to the waterfront. Traveling off the roads and without horses slowed their pace, but they made good time and by the time the sun was near the middle of the sky the Starks and Gendry had already made it to the Crossroads Inn where the royal procession had stopped over two months ago. Arya frowned at the thought when she caught sight of the riverbank where Joffrey attacked her and her friend Mycah. The small party of four calmly stepped into the inn and set themselves at a small table in the corner of the main room. A blonde woman wandered over to the table, but Jon simply waved her off before she could ask if they wanted food or refreshment.

Gendry eyed the other people in the room: an old couple quietly eating by the window, a few men drinking mead and laughing at their own jokes and stories, and a small man dressed in dark colors drinking by himself in the other corner of the room who was scanning the room himself.

"So," The boy leaned closer to the table as he whispered. "Where are we commandeering a boat to get us up the river?"

"Well, that answer may come quicker t than we thought," Myria muttered as she observed the small man gaze at her bosom rather obviously before rising from his chair and striding over toward their table. The males at the table tensed as the man approached and Arya furrowed her brows at the strange person coming up to them. The Stark woman retained an impassive face as the man stopped in front of her.

"You folks look like you're trying to get somewhere quick," She pursed her lips at the foul stench which flowed from the man's mouth, nearly gagging at the mix of alcohol and garlic remaining from his meal. "Traveling anywhere specific?"

"Yes actually," The purple-eyed woman fluttered her lashes. "We have family in Seagard. My cousin's farm was destroyed by a giant brute. Swept through and burned it to the ground, we were lucky to escape with his siblings unharmed."

"Ah," The man leaned back on his heels. "Sounds like the Mountain and his men. He's been stirring up trouble for many here in the Riverlands, loyal and traitor alike."

"Aye, he has," Jon muttered.

"Well, hope you enjoy the travel up the King's Road. Be careful of the Northern savages," Arya clenched her teeth at the man's words, but a quick jab to her ribs from Gendry stopped her from speaking up. "Heard they passed the Twins finally, I have to go investigate: Tywin Lannister's orders."

Jon froze at his words, but Myria subtly placed her hand on the stranger's arm, "Well, I'm glad to hear such brave men are protecting us common folk from the rebels." The Stark grimaced as the Lannister man's chest puffed at his wife's touch. "Are you a knight good Ser?"

The man blushed, "Oh no, just a scout for my Lord."

She gave a fake giggle at his embarrassment, "That might be even more important than a knight since you are the one sneaking through enemy territory."

"Oh well...I suppose," He eyed Jon and Gendry before he placed his hand on the small shoulder of the black-haired woman. "Hopefully I can sober myself up in time to properly do my job."

"I'm sure you will do fantastically, but my family and I won't hold you up from your important task any longer." The man frowned a little at her words, but slowly shuffled away from the four and back to his corner to finish his horn of mead.

Once the scout was out of hearing range Jon glared at his retreating form, "Why did you let him lay his hands on you?"

"Simple, drunk men have loose lips. Drunk men trying to impress a pretty face are even looser. Now we have a perfect guide straight to our family."

Gendry had to hand it to his friend, she knew how to get what she wanted out of people.


	25. Chapter 25

It's funny how something good can be shattered rather quickly, like glass upon the floor. Dany had been settling into the Khalasar well now that Viserys was no longer there to scare and control her, Her child was growing within her, and Jon had happily watched the light in his Princess' eye increase tenfold whenever she wandered the city of Vaes Dothrak with her servants or sat next to her husband during meals. She was enjoying her life without worry and it made the old knight's heart soar.

There were a few bumps in the road, Jorah Mormont being the largest by far.

At least that's what he thought.

"I don't know what to do Ser Connington," The silver-haired Khaleesi muttered as she sat in her tent with Irri and Doreah next to her. "I've tried to speak to Khal Drogo about my nephew and how we should go to Westeros to back his claim, but he has no wish for it."

The ginger man furrowed his brow, "Where did this idea come from all of a sudden?"

"Well, I assume he will wish to take the throne, and he will need my help to do so."

"Daenerys, you must understand that your nephew Jon grew up in the North. He has a Dornish wife which makes his claim even stronger."

The young woman frowned, "But I am his family, surely that must mean something to him?"

"I am sure it does, he was raised by the Starks and they hold family in very high esteem," He pondered how to better help her with the delicate situation. "Perhaps a trip through the marketplace would bring a fresh perspective to your problems?"

The violet-eyed woman smiled and rose from her seat by the fire, Irri and Doreah following her movements. "Thank you, Ser Connington. I think I will take a small stroll, would you mind accompanying me?"

The knight tilted his head in agreement and the small group exited the tent. As the Knight and the women began their pilgrimage into the marketplace two of the Khal's bloodriders made up the rear of the group, with Rakharo joining Ser Connington next to the pregnant Khaleesi. The older man smirked at the young Dothraki male and the small procession continued on their way. Sadly, in the knight's mind, Jorah Mormont joined them shortly after they entered the market and wandered close to Daenerys.

"Ser Jorah," Dany smiled at the Northern knight.

"Khaleesi."

"I was wondering how to convince my husband to cross the Narrow Sea, but I am unable to make him understand."

"Ah, well the Dothraki do things on their own time for their own reasons. Have patience Khaleesi," He smiled at the royal woman. "You will go home, I promise you."

She sighed, "My brother was a fool I know, but all he wanted to do was go home as well." She frowned when she heard chuckling from Jorah.

"Forgive me Khaleesi, but your ancestor Aegon the Conqueror didn't seize six of the kingdoms because of birthright," He continued to explain when he caught her confused face. "He seized them because he could."

Dany glanced down, "And because he had dragons."

"Well," The bear sighed. "Having a few dragons makes things easier."

"You don't believe it?"

"Have you ever seen a dragon, Khaleesi? I believe what my eyes and ears report," He stopped his wandering and faced the young ruler. "As for the rest, it was three hundred years ago who knows what really happened." He let his eyes roam as if searching for someone. "Now if you'll pardon me I'll seek out the merchant captain and see if he has any letters for me."

She perked up, "Well I'll come with you."

"No, no. Don't trouble yourself, enjoy the market. I'll rejoin you soon enough."

The old griffin knight frowned as he watched the other Westerosi man leave, "that's odd."

Daenerys turned to her sworn sword, "What is odd, Ser Connington?"

"The whole time I've known that man he hasn't wished to leave your presence unless he has to, and now he so flippantly dismisses you?" He shrugged his shoulders while he followed the man's retreating form. "Just odd in my opinion."

"You're just being overprotective of me," She assumed. "And why am I unable to inform Ser Jorah of our other Jon's existence?"

Ser Jon glanced down at the Targaryen woman as they continued to wander through the streets of the market, "He is from the North, so I assume he is already aware of Jon's existence as being Ned Stark's bastard. If he knew the truth he would either not believe it, or sell the boy out to King Robert."

"Nonsense," She shook her head. "Jorah would never betray me like that."

"But it would not be you he would betray, just your nephew," He pointed out. "Who is also the nephew of the man who exiled Mormont and threatened to execute him if he ever tried to return home."

Daenerys had to admit to the man's logic, she wished to go home so bad to be with her newfound family she was willing to do just about anything to convince her husband. How much would it take for Jorah to try to go home as well? He may truly not see it as betraying her since if Jon was gone she would have the only birthright to the Iron Throne once more. It was all too much to think over at the moment so instead of answering she focused on the stalls on the sides of the path, pulling Irri and Doreah to a small stall with shimmering jewels. The women held up necklaces to the light and compared the bracelets, Dany even purchased a small silver chained necklace with a ruby set in the middle of the piece.

As she continued to let the pleasures of shopping wash away her worries, a man's raised voice cut through the crowd, "_I have sweet reds from Lys, Volantis, and the Arbor_!" She followed the voice to a Pentosi man standing in front of a multitude of barrels and wine bottles. "_Tyroshi pear brandy! Andalish sours! I have them all!_" He paused his sales pitch as he watched the silver-haired woman approach with her small entourage. "_A taste for the Khaleesi?_" Daenerys smirked as she stepped closer to the man. "_I have a sweet red from Dorne, my lady. One taste and you'll name your first child after me._" He jested with the highborn woman.

"My son already has his name, but I'll try your summer wine. Just a taste."

The man's eyes widened at her accent, "My Lady, you are from Westeros."

Ser Connington stepped forward but before a word could leave his mouth Doreah opened her's, "You have the honor of addressing Daenerys of the house Targaryen, Khaleesi of the riding men, and Princess of the Seven Kingdoms."

The man bowed, "Princess."

Dany giggled at his reaction while Connington frowned, "Rise, I'd still like to taste that wine."

"That?" The man tossed the cup of summer wine aside. "Is Dornish swill. Not worthy of a Princess. I have a dry red from the Arbor, nectar of the Gods. Let me give you a cask." He rummaged through his stores until he pulled out a small barrel and presented towards the Targaryen woman. "A gift!"

"You honor me, sir."

"The honor...the honor is all mine," Ser Jon narrowed his eyes at the man's frantic movements as he pushed the cask into the hands of one of the bloodriders. "You know there are many in your homeland that pray for your return Princess." The man added with a whisper.

Dany smiled innocently at the man, "I hope to repay your kindness someday."

Suddenly before any more words could leave the seller's mouth Ser Mormont appeared and quickly approached the group. Jon gripped his sword tight as he watched the seller's face pale at the sight of the other knight. Why would he seem fearful of Jorah but not the bloodriders or himself?

"_Rakharo, put that cask down_." The young man obliged the Andal's request and set the small cask onto one of the larger ones in front of him.

Purple eyes stared at the Northerner with confusion, "Is something wrong?"

Jorah kept his eyes on the wine salesman, "I have a thirst, open it." Jorah, Rakharo, and Jon all leveled their gazes from the cask to the seller.

"The wine is for the Khaleesi," The man began to argue. "It is not for the likes of you."

"Open it." The man eyed the group and reluctantly popped the cork off of the cask, releasing the sweet smells of grapes, cranberries, and honeydew into the air. He glanced at the knight to see if he was satisfied. "Pour."

The seller lightly shook his head, "It would be a crime to drink wine this rich without at least giving it time to breathe."

The smile slipped from Daenerys' face, "Do as he says."

The man began to sweat, "As the Princess commands." They watched as he slowly filled a small glass goblet with the dark liquid before he presented it towards the group. Jorah took the cup and held it under his nose, letting the smells waft into his senses. "Sweet isn't it?" Jorah passed the cup to the other knight and Jon smelled the wine, grimacing at the undertones his trained senses detected. "And you can smell the fruits. Taste it, my Lord, and tell me that is not the finest wine that has ever touched your tongue."

Ser Connington brought the goblet slightly closer to his lips while keeping eye contact with the man before pulling the cup away and towards the seller, "You first."

"M-me?" The man quickly shook his head. "I'm afraid I am not worthy of the vintage, besides it is a poor wine merchant who would drink up his own wares."

"You will drink," The Valyrian woman insisted. The man quickly nodded and a tight smile pulled onto his cheeks as he carefully grabbed the cup from the ginger's hands. He tilted his head towards Ser Jorah and the Khaleesi as he slowly brought the cup to his lips. In a flash, he suddenly smashed the goblet to the ground, swept up a large wine barrel, and threw it at the Bloodriders as he attempted to run away down the street. Connington and Rakharo swiftly jumped into action chasing after the man as he sprinted down the paths, and luckily the Dothraki man was able to lasso around his ankle with his whip. Successfully bringing the criminal to the ground. The other two bloodriders harshly grabbed the man as he was dragged away to face his punishment. Jon turned back around to see Jorah escorting the Princess and her servants away and he dutifully followed after. They followed the main path out of the markets and back to the huts the Khalasar had claimed when they first entered the city. Dany paused and waited for Ser Connington to catch up with her before she asked Jorah to take Irri and Doreah back to her tent, the older man reluctantly agreed.

After the three were out of sight she and her faithful knight entered the main tent and the two Westerosi watched as the man who attempted to poison the Targaryen was tied to the main pole of the building and beaten by the bloodriders who apprehended him earlier.

"What will happen to him?" She mumbled.

"When the Khalasar rides he'll be leashed to a saddle and forced to run behind the horses for as long as he can," Jon answered.

"And when he falls?"

The Griffin frowned, "Heard a man last nine miles once before."

"Why does King Robert still wish me dead, Viserys was his threat as the male and he knows not of Jon at all?"

"You highness that is the very reason why. To everyone else in the world you are the last Targaryen, and Targaryens have always been feared for their power."

Her shoulders slumped, "I thought he would leave me alone."

The sound of fabric had the pair turn their heads to see Mormont entering the room, "Poison was the first, but he won't be the last Khaleesi. He will never leave you alone. If you ride to the darkest part of Asshai his assassins will follow you. If you sailed all the way to the Basilisk Isles his spies would tell him. He will never abandon the hunt."

"At least until a greater threat smacks his ass out of that damn seat," The other exiled Lord muttered under his breath.

Jorah continued, "Your son will have Targaryen blood with forty thousand riders behind him."

Daenerys darkened at the thought of the Usurper taking her child from her, "He will not have my son."

"He will not have you either, Khaleesi."

As Jorah offered his words of comfort and reassurance the opening of the tent moved and the remaining bloodriders and Khal Drogo entered the space. The bloodriders circled the room, glaring at the injured man tied in the middle of the area as Khal Drogo approached the simpering coward. He stood above the man glaring and reached his hand out. A torch was quickly placed into his waiting hand and he waved the flames close to the would-be assassins' face before tossing the torch into the firepit in the middle of the room and continuing further towards his wife.

"_Moon of my life_," Amethyst eyes met smoldering black as he gently caressed her face. "_Are you hurt?_" She shook her head in disagreement and he carefully placed a kiss onto the crown of her silver hair. He spared a glance over to the two knights, "_Jorah the Andal, I heard what you did. Choose any horse you wish, it is yours._" The bear gratefully bowed his head at the generous offer. "_I make this gift to you_."

Drogo dragged his eyes back to his wife, "_And to my son, the stallion who will mount the world, I will also pledge a gift._" Jon tensed at the burning look in the man's eye. "_I will give him the iron chair that his mother's father sat upon._" The Khal declared as he strode around the large room. "_I will give him the Seven Kingdoms. I, Drogo, will do this. I will take my Khalasar west to where the world ends._" The bloodriders cheered. "_And ride wooden horses across the black salt water as no Khal has done before._" The cheering increased tenfold. "_I will kill the men in their iron suits and tear down their stone houses._" He claimed as he spat on the seller's face. "_I will rape their women, take their children as slaves, and bring their broken gods back to Vaes Dothrak. This, I vow. I, Drogo, son of Bharbo. I swear before the Mother of Mountains as the stars look down in witness!_"

The cheering turned thunderous at his vow and the whole of the tent burst into celebration, leaving only the Knights and their Princess shrouded in silence.

"Well," Ser Jorah breathed. "I suppose you'll be going home sooner now, Khaleesi."

And with his words Ser Connington could see the change in the tides of the future, the impending doom of a civil war now cresting over the horizon. Just like glass crashing to the ground.


	26. Chapter 26

The sounds of battle were deaf to the Young Wolf's ears as he surveyed the remains of the battlefield. Lannister men and his own soldiers laid out across the ground in a bloody, mangled mess. He grimaced at the horrible loss of life and hoped the dead would be able to find their peace in the afterlife. The siege surrounding Riverrun was lifted but at what cost? He had sent over two thousand Northern men to their deaths, and what was his prize?

Jaime Lannister.

The Southern swot who started this by pushing his little brother off of a tower. Now as he watched as his men collected the rest of the prisoners and their wounded brothers he wished his brother was here with him. Gods he prayed Jon was safe, and he prayed they both would come out of this alive. But was life ever certain in a war?

Robb pushed the dark thoughts from his mind when he noticed Theon riding towards him along with Greatjon Umber and Lady Mormont. The Northern highborn fighters each regarded each other before they clambered onto their horses and began the trek back to their encampment. During the ride through the Whispering Woods Robb appreciated the cool breeze upon his face as his horse led the rest of the troops through the winding paths. As the path brightened he breathed a sigh of relief and smiled as the other soldiers picked up their pace towards the end of the tree line. The Northern forces rushed into the clearing and Robb's spirits brightened more when he caught the form of his mother and Ser Rodrik Cassel waiting for the army's return. He dismounted from his horse and his mother rushed towards him, pulling him into a tight hug.

The auburn man slowly released his mother from his hold and they separated, she became a stern lady once more and he returned to his stoic visage. The other Lords dismounted their horses while two soldiers dragged the captured Lannister to his mother's feet. Robb glared at the golden-haired man while Lord Umber held the exhausted Southern knight up, "By the time they knew what was happening it had already happened."

The Kingslayer greeted the woman in front of him, "Lady Stark, I'd offer you my sword but I've seemed to have lost it."

"It is not your sword I want," She spat out. "Give me my daughters back, give me my husband."

Jaime sighed as pain flashed through his body, "I've lost them too, I'm afraid."

"Kill him, Robb," Theon suggested. "Send his head to his father. He cut down ten of our men, you saw him."

The Stark shook his head, "He's more use to us alive than dead."

Catelyn nodded her head in agreement, "Take him away and put him in irons."

As Theon and the Greatjon brought the knight to his feet he spoke up, "We could end this war right now boy, save thousands of lives." He gestured between himself and Robb. "You fight for the Starks I fight for the Lannisters. Swords, lances, teeth, or nails: choose your weapons, and let's end this here and now."

Robb quirked his brow, "If we do it your way Kingslayer you'd win," He shook his head. "We're not doing it your way."

Lord Umber scoffed at the Lion's poor attempt to win his freedom, "Come on, pretty man." He hauled up the prisoner and dragged him away from the Starks while the soldiers surrounding them cheered and applauded for their victory. Robb froze at the cheers and his face paled at the sight of celebration around him.

"I sent two thousand men to their graves today."

Theon smiled at his friend, but Robb caught the worry shining in the Greyjoy's eyes, "The bards will sing songs of their sacrifice."

"Aye," He agreed. "But the dead won't hear them." He stepped forward toward the men who were joyous for their success. "One victory does not make us conquerors." the soldiers quieted as they listened to their Liege Lord. "Did we free my father? Did we rescue my sisters from the Queen? Did we free the North from those who want us on our knees? This war is far from over." The crowd watched as Robb finished with his words and stepped away from the center of the mass of men. But before he could remount his horse and continue towards the camp they had set up further away from the river a familiar voice cut through the air.

"The Gods work in odd ways brother, just have to trust that we Northerners are smart enough to listen to them."

Robb shot his body back around to see the forms of four people on the outskirts of their men, dressed in simple peasant clothing. The soldiers near them had drawn their weapons worried the four were spies of the Lannisters, but the auburn man quickly sprinted through the crowd until he was face to face with his previously missing brother, Jon. He wrapped his arms around the man and nearly crushed him against his armor, but let go when Jon's breathing became staggered. He pulled back to see Myria standing next to her husband looking worse for wear, but unharmed and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug as well.

"Wow Robb, you hug Jon's wife instead of me first. Shows how much you care." The snarky voice of his youngest sister had Robb freezing once more and his mother crying out as she ran towards her little girl. He and his sister-in-law separated just in time to see Arya get swept up by her mother. The older woman cried as she held her daughter, and Arya awkwardly accepted her mother's affection. The men around them relaxed and many started to laugh and cheer for the small band of Starks who had found their way back to their rightful place.

"Oh, Arya! Oh my little girl, thank the Gods."

The She-Wolf then attempted to squirm out of her mother's grip, "Bloody hell mum, let me go."

The Stark matriarch gasped, "Arya Stark you watch your language." The mother continued to berate her child while Robb noticed Jon and Myria standing by an unknown boy with ink-black hair and ocean blue eyes.

"And who might you be?" The boy fidgeted under the questioning gaze of the Lord.

"Uh, Gendry Waters, m'lord," He kept his eyes locked with Robb's blue orbs. "I'm an old friend of Lady Dayne, well I guess Lady Stark now."

"Aye, that sounds about right," Robb chuckled. "Any friend of my sister's is a friend of the North." The Northern men around the small group cheered at their Lord's declaration and Gendry flushed from the attention he was surrounded by. "Now," The auburn man turned and wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulders. "How in the Seven Hells did you get out of King's Landing and all the way here?"

"A lot of bloody luck."

Robb smirked at Jon's quip, "Let's get your sorry souls back to camp, and then we can further discuss your lot's grand adventure."

"Believe me," The Stark man glanced over to the Dornish woman. "Not much of an adventure, more like a horrible trip with two squabbling children."

"Oi! Ria, you know Gendry always started it," Robb laughed at his sister's hot tone.

"Oh of course," The black-haired boy rolled his eyes. "Cause a lady never starts fights, not at all."

Arya struggled to get out of her mother's tight grip on her shoulders, "I told you, I'm not a lady!"

The young adults laughed at the bickering of the two young counterparts while Lady Catelyn rolled her eyes at the foolishness before the small Stark group led the rest of the now far more hopeful Northern army back to their encampment.

The small group of family members quickly swept through the camp towards the larger tents ladened with Stark flags, with every man they passed bowing towards the new members of the camp as they walked by. Jon followed behind his brother as they entered a tent with a long wooden table covered in maps and troop movements. The Lords in the tent stood from their seats at the entrance of their Liege Lord and raised their brows at the ragged group behind the auburn man and Lady Catelyn, who had yet to release Arya's hand from her own.

"We leave for ten minutes and all hell breaks loose it seems," Roose Bolton jested. "So who are these new faces?" He calmly asked as he swept his eyes from grey, purple, and blue ones.

"Gods Roose, you must be getting old if you can't tell who's a bloody Stark anymore," Greatjon bellowed as he moved through the tent and clasped his hand onto Jon's shoulder. "You must be Jon judging by Ned's grey eyes."

The man in question nodded, "Aye, Lord Umber he's my brother, Jon. And this," He gestured to the Dornish woman. "Is his wife, Lady Myria of Houses Dayne and Stark." The Northern Lord offered his hand to the enchanting woman and she politely let him bestow a kiss to her hand. "And this little beast is my sister, Arya." The girl grumbled at her introduction and Lady Mormont smirked at the child's attitude.

"Well, it is our damn lucky day then!" The old Lord proclaimed. "Caught a Kingslayer and a whole pack of wolves." The other Lords and Lady in the tent except Lord Bolton nodded their heads in agreement.

"And how was it Lord Stark and his wife were able to escape King's Landing?" The Lord of the Dreadfort questioned. "Last I heard both Stark daughters were still in the Queen's grasp. And why not bring Lord Stark's other sister with you?"

The merriment halted at the man's suspiciously toned sentence, but the spiced accent of the black-haired Lady cut through the silence. "A good question, Lord Bolton is it?" The man tilted his head. "We were lucky to leave the capital before Robb's father was arrested, and he insisted Jon and I bring Arya with us."

"But, why would Ned not send Sansa too?" Lady Catelyn worriedly asked.

"Because Sansa was still engaged to the Crown Prince at the time. If we tried to leave with her the Queen would have noticed for certain," The younger lady pointed out.

"Lady Catelyn," The mother turned her gaze to her husband's bastard. "We left before King Robert had passed, we did not know Sansa and Lord Stark would have been arrested."

She glared at the grey-eyed man, "You should have known, you went to the capital to warn Ned of danger but failed to inform him of the danger right under his nose."

"Lady Stark," A quiet voice chimed in, and many in the room turned to the previously silent boy standing near the entrance of the tent. "They left the city because your husband commanded them to, I think Lord Stark wished to keep as much of his family safe as he was able."

"Thank you Gendry," Myria added. "And if we are throwing blame we must discuss your own, Lady Catelyn."

"Excuse me, Lady Myria?"

"It was you who followed Jon and me to the capital when we asked you not to, as it was too dangerous," Robb quirked his brows at his mother as she flushed red with anger. "And you were the one who unjustly arrested Tyrion Lannister which started this conflict in the first place. If you had not then Ser Jaime would not have attacked your husband in the streets of the city and ignited this ember to a flame which has now engulfed the Seven Kingdoms."

The tent was silent as the two women stared each other down. Jon huffed at his wife's confidence against his brother's mother while the rest of the members of the war council waited for the Lady of Winterfell to denounce the Dornish woman's points, but were surprised more when the older woman scoffed and pulled herself and her small daughter from the tent without another word.

"I thought you said this woman was from the South, Robb," The Greatjon broke the silence. "Her words are as icy as our homeland." The tense feeling in the room left as the men laughed lightly at the lord's jest. Jon glanced at his wife's stoic face and gently placed his arm around her waist, smiling when she relaxed at his touch.

"Aye, she is as North a woman as my own mother is," Robb agreed. "Jon, if you wouldn't mind leaving your wife and Gendry here to their own devices for a bit I would be most interested in having you part of the council." Jon nodded his head to his brother and kissed his wife lightly on the cheek before she and Gendry were led from the tent by a Stark guard. The two friends walked silently through the camp with the guard until he stopped at a large tent with Stark banners on either side of it.

"Lord Stark's tent, my Lady," Myria smiled at the man and thanked him as she and the blacksmith stepped into the tent. The ground in the tent was luckily covered in animal skin rugs to block the wet ground and there was a small table with sturdy chairs surrounding it as well as a sizable bed draped in a multitude of blankets separated from the rest of the room with its own curtained doorway. Candlelight illuminated the inside of the tent as she and Gendry claimed two of the table's chairs as their own. They had barely taken their seats when a small mousy woman walked in with two piles of clothes in her arms. She quickly placed the clothing in front of each of the tent's occupants before swiftly returning to her normal duties. Myria picked up the offered clothing and wandered into the closed-off bedroom area to change out of her uncomfortable peasant's dress.

As she held up the new dress to observe it she recognized it as one of Lady Catelyn's own. The dress was of fine blue wool with fur lining the edges of the hem and sleeves. The dress was also accompanied by a clean shift, cotton petticoat, and stockings. A pair of black flats tied the ensemble together. She quickly redressed herself into the clean clothing and mused at the different style of dress than she was accustomed to. The Northern dress was looser on her body than the tight Southern dresses she was used to and far more insulated against the cold air that filtered through the tent. And while the dress was far softer than the one she had been in for the past few weeks the fabric did not compare to the softness of silks or organzas she was accustomed to as a child living in the South. She appreciated the lack of need for a corset with the style of dress, as it snugly laced up in the back instead of the usual buttons.

She waited a few more minutes before rejoining Gendry in the main area of the tent and glanced at her friend's new attire. He rubbed his arm as he attempted to sit comfortably in the new layers he now donned. A dark green tunic with a brown doublet and black jerkin layered over it, as well as wool breeches and new leather boots made him want to sweat even though the temperature in his old clothing was frigid.

"Too many layers for your Southern temperament Gen?"

"Don't you find it a bit tight?" She laughed at his concerned tone.

"Gods no," She retook her seat across from the boy. "How about I put a corset on you and then you tell me if a tunic and a few layers are tight."

He cringed, "Point made Ria." The two passed their time waiting with short anecdotes and Gendry was in the middle of a story involving himself, a wheel of cheese, and a stray dog when Arya came bursting into the tent with her mother not far behind. The girl struggled with her new grey dress but still laughably sat onto one of the rugs in the room instead of the table where her mother gracefully placed herself.

"Ria you'll never guess who I found!" The Stark girl shouted once she had found a way to sit without choking herself on the torture device her mother had squeezed her into.

The Dornish woman raised her brow with a sparkle in her eye, "Who did you find Arya?" Instead of answering the woman, the girl let out a shrill whistle that had Gendry plugging his ears to escape the ear-splitting noise. The purple-eyed woman turned her head to the tent's flaps and smiled as two forms lumbered their way into the tent. The large grey and black mass made her way over to her master and Arya squealed as Nymeria licked her face, while the even larger white wolf quietly placed himself by Myria's feet and happily wagged his tail when the woman gently began to pet his soft fur.

"Gods, are those-"

"Direwolves, yes Gendry. They are," Arya called proudly. "This is Nymeria, she's mine. The white one is Ghost, he's Jon's."

The Lady of Winterfell reluctantly nodded her head, "Robb insisted on bringing the animals with them, his own, Greywind, barely leaves his side." Speaking of the other direwolf, the giant mass wandered into the tent with his master and Jon following behind him. The wolf quickly wandered over to Arya and Nymeria laying down by the girl's side. The two brothers joined the Stark women and Gendry at the table and Jon smiled at Ghost sitting by his wife's side.

Robb took in the sight of his previously missing family members and sighed, "Jon informed me how you found your way here, following a scout," He glanced at his sister-in-law. "Smart thinking, Myria." She lightly bowed her head at the compliment. "But we are far from the clear ending we all hope for; however, now that we have the Kingslayer in custody and Arya with us, trading him for Father and Sansa should be quite easy."

"Even if we get Father back," Jon began. "The Lannsiters will still want all of our heads on spikes. Joffery sits on the throne, which puts the Realm in more danger than we could even imagine."

"You're right Jon," Robb agreed. "Having a tyrant on the throne will do no one any good. This is why I believe when we get Father back we should support Stannis Baratheon as Robert's successor."

"While it is a good idea Robb," Myria cut in. "Don't put all of your eggs in one basket. Wait until we have Eddard back before we go proclaiming for a new King."

"A wise idea Ria, but why suggest it?" Robb wondered. "Not even an hour ago you practically denounced this whole conflict as my mother's fault when we all know the Lannisters were the ones who attack Bran."

"Yes, I won't deny I think they are at fault for attacking Bran, but I recall informing you and your mother in the Godswood the knife the assassin used was not Tyrion Lannister's. Yet Lady Catelyn decided to trust a man she has not seen in twenty years over her own family member."

"Lord Baelish actually could confirm Tyrion owned the blade," Catelyn defended.

"Did you hear Tyrion say this to the man or did you take Petyr's word?" The mother paused at the other woman's response. "Exactly, And if you asked any other in the Red Keep they would have told you the blade was won off King Robert by Lord Baelish over a year ago. Many remember that jousting tournament rather well."

"So you accuse me of arresting the wrong man?"

Myria shook her head, "I accuse you of following false evidence to the wrong man, I know not if Baelish was the one to hire the assassin or simply provide the blade. But he was involved and used your childhood friendship to throw you off his scent. You will find men like him are quick to save their skins than protect the good of the Realm."

Robb raised his hand, "It does not matter now, but you cannot go accusing my Mother in front of all of my Bannermen Myria. It is a bad front for morale if we don't trust each other," He then turned to his mother who wore a smug smirk. "And Mother, next time you want to do anything with the war effort or wish to offer an idea of guilt, bring it to myself and Jon first."

"So you do not want my counsel?" She hotly asked.

"That is not what I said, Mother," Robb quickly added. "I just want you to relax and look after Arya for the moment. I know how much you worried about her. And I will do everything in my power to bring Sansa and Father back to you as well."

The auburn woman let out a sigh and nodded her head while she rubbed her temples. She then rose from her seat, collected her daughter, and left to head back to her tent. Gendry and Jon let out breaths of relief once the woman had left.

"Gods, you could cut that tension with a knife." The other three at the table chuckled at the blacksmith's observation.

"So, now that you two have put aside your differences for the moment," Jon muttered as he glanced at his wife's annoyed face. "We had something to talk to you about Robb." Robb watched as his brother rose from his chair and wandered around the table to the leather bag sitting in front of his wife. Gendry sat up a bit straighter when Jon pulled a small box out of it as well as a velvet pouch with three lumps jutting through the red fabric. He pushed the box over to the auburn man, "Father showed me these after Myria and I were wed. Didn't believe him at first, but it's true."

Robb raised his brow as he opened the small chest and was greeted with a small mass of letters and an old wrinkled leather journal. He paused on a folded piece of parchment with a broken black wax seal depicting a three-headed dragon. He carefully lifted the old document and opened it to read its contents.

_I, High Septon Maynard of the Faith of the Seven, lawfully and dutifully annul the marriage between Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Princess Elia Martell under the wife's pretense of great illness. The Princess may keep her royal title under the sight of Gods and men, and both counterparts are now allowed to remarry for the betterment of their own Houses._

_I, High Septon Maynard of the Faith of the Seven, also allow and bear witness to the union of Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lady Lyanna Stark in the Light of the Seven. May the lawful union of these two souls be secured with the witnesses' signatures and the blessings of the Gods._

_I, Ser Arthur of House Dayne, bear witness to the union of Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lady Lyanna Stark in the Light of the Seven. _

_I, Lady Clara of Houses Arryn and Dayne, bear witness to the union of Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lady Lyanna Stark in the Light of the Seven. _

"Seven Hells," Robb breathed out as he turned back to Jon. "You said Father showed you this? Where in the Gods' name did he find it?"

"With Lyanna when he found her," Jon answered. "Along with me."

"You," Robb echoed back. "Well, I suppose that would make us cousins instead of brothers."

Jon huffed as he nodded his head, "You'll always be my brother Robb." The Stark man then rose and pulled Jon into a tight hug. Myria smiled at the pair before turning to Gendry who was now reading the official document himself.

"I told you you wouldn't believe what was in the bag, Gen."


	27. Chapter 27

Everyone whispered now, whether it was behind her back or to her face she doubted they even cared to hide it. The once-respected highborn lady was just a pariah now, the daughter of a traitor.

Sansa still wondered why her father did what he did, why he tried to attack her precious Joffrey. She carefully wandered through the halls of the Red Keep towards the throne room as she pondered on how to get back into the Queen's good graces. She wrote a letter to her brother, and she knew the Queen must have been pleased with her sign of loyalty. But now news spread of her brother riding a Northern army down to save her, but she didn't need saving. Robb just didn't understand, and his mistakes were ruining her chances of staying engaged to her golden King.

She slowed her steps as she approached the side entrance to the great chamber where the King and his council were holding court and hurriedly smoothed down the pale blue silk dress she had specifically picked for today. She prayed her hair stayed in its elaborate Southern twist as she stepped into the large crowd of royals standing before the Iron Throne and tuned into the proclamation the Grand Maester was reading out.

"His loyal servant Janos Slynt, commander of the City Watch, be at once raised to the rank of Lord and granted the ancient seat of Harrenhal and that his sons and grandsons shall hold this order after him until the end of time," Sansa eyed the commander as he bowed to the King, but when she attempted to quietly move through the crowd she embarrassingly found the other members of the court swiftly rushing out of her way, as if touching her would instantly name them a traitor as well.

A beacon of hope came however when she reached the front of the gentry and the Queen offered her a small smile. She beamed back at the radiant blonde woman and lightly bowed towards her and the King.

Her smile melted from her face with the Maester's next words, "In the place of the traitor Eddard Stark," She still was surprised the small council would believe her father a traitor, surely he must have been tricked by another. Her father was a Stark and the Starks were too honorable to do the wrong thing, much less high treason. "It is the wish of His Grace that Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, be appointed Hand of the King. Lastly, in these times of treason and turmoil, it is the view of the council that the life and safety of King Joffrey be of paramount importance."

The wizened man turned his head towards the Queen's direction and she raised from her seat with a grace Sansa could only wish for, "Ser Barristan Selmy."

The knight in question moved from his place in the line of Kingsguard and moved to stand in front of the royal family, "Your Grace," He bowed. "I am yours to command."

"Rise Ser Barristan," The Lannister woman replied. "You may remove your helm." The old knight nodded and removed the helmet from his face. "You have served the Realm long and faithfully every man and woman in the Seven Kingdoms owes you thanks, but it is time to put aside your armor and your sword. It is time to rest and look back with pride on your many years of service." A murmur cut through the crowd as the proud smile fell from the man's face at his Queen's words.

"Your Grace, the Kingsguard is a sworn brotherhood. Our vows are taken for life. Only death relieves us of our sacred trust."

Cersei smirked, "Whose death, Ser Barristan? Yours or your Kings?"

"You let my father die," The boy King spat out as he glared daggers at the famed knight. "You're too old to protect anybody."

"Your Grace-"

"The council has determined that Ser Jaime Lannister will take your place as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."

Ser Barristan scoffed at her proclamation, "The man who profaned his blade with the blood of the King he had sworn to defend."

"Careful Ser," Cersei cut the man's remaining words off.

Varys stepped forward from his spot behind the King, "We have nothing but gratitude for your long service good Ser. You shall be given a stout keep beside the seas with servants to look after your every need."

"A hall to die in and men to bury me," He rebutted. The crowd once again broke into noise when the man began to unlatch his cape and armor. "I am a knight. I shall die a knight."

"A naked knight apparently," Lord Baelish jested. The other members of the gentry broke into laughter, but Sansa watched on with silence and confusion.

Ser Barristan glared at the man along with the other small council members before he quickly unsheathed his sword. The other members of the Kingsguard were quick to draw their own in retaliation. "Even now I could cut through the five of you like carving a cake. Here boy," He threw the blade to the ground. "Melt it down and add it to the others." With his angered words he swept from the hall and left the court behind him. Sansa pitied the man and believed he should have not been disrespected as such, but her stress and worries quickly returned when the court reader spoke up.

"If any man in this hall has other matters to set before His Grace let him speak now, or go forth and hold his silence."

The Stark girl tentatively made eye contact with the King, "Your Grace."

Joffrey smiled and waved his hand towards his betrothed, "Come forward my Lady."

"The Lady Sansa of House Stark."

She slowly walked to the center of the room and stopped before her King upon his throne, "Do you have some business for the King and his council, Sansa?" The Queen pondered.

"I do," She agreed and dropped to her knees in front of the royal family. "As it pleases Your Grace I ask mercy for my father, Lord Eddard Stark who was Hand of the King."

"Treason," Grand Maester Pycelle cried out. "Is a noxious weed that should be torn out root-"

"Let her speak," The blonde King called out. "I want to hear what she says."

Sansa smiled, "Thank you, Your Grace."

"Do you deny your father's crime?" The Master of Coin asked.

The Northern Lady shook her head, "No, my Lords. I know he must be punished, all I ask is mercy. I know my Lord Father must regret what he did. He was King Robert's friend and he loved him, you all know he loved him. He never wanted to be Hand until the King asked him. They must have lied to him: Lord Renly or Lord Stannis or somebody. They must have lied."

Joffrey raised his brow, "He said I wasn't the King. Why did he say that?"

"He was badly hurt," She quickly explained. "Maester Pycelle was giving him milk of the poppy. He wasn't himself, otherwise, he never would have said it."

"A child's faith," The Master of Whispers remarked. "Such sweet innocence. And yet they say wisdom oft comes from the mouths of babes."

"Treason is treason," The Grand Maester argued.

Joffrey nodded his head at both men's words, "Anything else?"

"If you still have any affection in your heart for me, please do me this kindness, Your Grace." Joffrey leaned back in the Iron Throne as he mulled over the naive girl's wish.

"Your sweet words have moved me," Sansa beamed at her betrothed's words. "But your father has to confess. He has to confess and say that I'm the King. Or there will be no mercy for him."

The kneeling girl took a deep breath, "He will." With her words of confirmation, the court was adjourned and the mass of nobles quickly filed from the hall. Sansa waited on her knees until Joffrey and the Queen Mother had left the hall before she began to stand once more. She breathed a sigh of relief as hope reentered her heart, her father would be given a chance to right his wrongs and everything could be fixed.

The red-headed girl made her way from the grand hall with more life in her eyes than when she entered and quickly began to make her way back to her chambers. As she passed other members of the court she could hear the commander of the City Watch informing his men to prepare to escort her father to the Sept of Baelor later in the afternoon, and she hastened her steps to make herself more presentable for the event. If her father was presented in front of the Sept the whole city would bear witness to the mercy and sweetness of her King and she knew she had to make a positive impression as the next Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

She kept her head down as she turned another corner coming closer to her door when she caught the exotic robes of Lord Varys up ahead. Against her better judgment, she turned and looked for witnesses, and when she saw none she quietly followed the so-called "Spider." Maybe he knew what the King would choose to do to her father, keep him in prison? Send him to The Wall to serve with her Uncle Benjen? She paused at a corner when the bald man stopped at a wooden door in the hall ahead of her still form. She watched him knock on the door and was surprised to see Ser Barristan fling the door open from the inside of the room with his armor fully removed and a traveling pack strapped to his back. The two shared near-silent words, the foreign man passed a small scroll of parchment to the knight, then he turned and continued on his previous route. Sansa held her breath as the now ex-Kingsguard unrolled the scroll and quirked his brows at the unknown words upon the page before he scanned his eyes around the hall for unwanted looks. The Stark girl was quick enough to swing back around the stone corner and let out her breath when she heard the wooden door swing shut.

She held her hand to her chest to calm her racing heart and quickly rushed back to her room unless she stayed and get caught for sneaking and eavesdropping. Once her own door had closed behind her she relaxed and decided to push the odd moment from her mind, nothing was even odd bout it now that she thought of it. Varys must have been giving him his payment for service or a letter of gratitude from the King.

Whatever it was it was not the concern of a true Lady, Gods sneaking around was something her sister Arya would pride herself on doing. And as much as she missed her sister at the moment she would not stoop to her levels of childishness.

Sansa straightened herself, fixing her hair that had come loose from her running and adding some blush to her pale cheeks before a knock sounded upon her door. She opened it and was greeted by a member of the Kingsguard who silently led her through the halls to the small procession of people waiting at the gates of the Red Keep. She smiled at King Joffrey and his beautiful mother when she reached the group and gracefully followed as they moved through the streets of the city, giving small waves to the children she passed as her mother had taught her once. When the group reached the steps of the Sept Sansa and the Queen were directed to stand on the right of the King and Sansa tensed lightly when Lord Baelish chose to stand close to her side. She glanced towards the man and gave a polite bow which he returned in kind. As she stood still next to the Lannister woman she watched as the crowd within the square increased tenfold and stood straighter when she noticed a form being moved through the crowd by two guards. She gave a small smile and a nod when her blue eyes met the sad grey eyes of her father.

The Northern Lord frowned at the sight of his oldest daughter standing surrounded by those who wish his family harm but relaxed slightly when he failed to catch the eye of his other daughter, his nephew, or the boy's Dornish wife. He prayed to the Old Gods that they had safely made it back to Robb and his dear Catelyn. He grunted as he was moved up the steps of the Sept and forced to stand in front of the false King and faced towards the crowd.

He tensed at all of the people jeering at him, but he remembered the words of advice Varys had given him less than an hour ago, what was at stake if he did not comply with the Queen's son.

"I am Eddard Stark," The crowd silenced at his voice. "Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King." He gulped and grimaced at the dryness in his throat, and spared another glance towards his sweet daughter who simply smiled and nodded at him once more. "I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of Gods and men. I betrayed the faith of my King and the trust of my friend Robert. I swore to protect and defend his children, but before his blood was cold I plotted to murder his son and seize the throne for myself." He paused as the crowd slightly raised its volume and waited for it to lower once more. The Northern man flinched as a rock was thrown into his face and he stumbled until a hand pushed him back upright.

"Let the High Septon and Baelor the Blessed bear witness to what I say. Joffrey Baratheon," He paused. "Is the one true heir to the Iron Throne by the grace of all the Gods Lords of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." The crowd cheered at the man's declaration and Joffrey himself smiled at the weary Lord's words.

Grand Maester Pycelle stepped forward and motioned for the crowd to silence itself, "As we sin so do we suffer. This man has confessed his crimes in sight of Gods and men. The Gods are just, but beloved Baelor taught us they can also be merciful." The older man turned to his King. "What is to be done with this traitor, Your Grace?"

The crowd once more rose in volume and the blonde King smiled at the cheering faces and raised his hand toward the common folk. "My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join the Night's Watch, stripped of title and powers he would serve the Realm in permanent exile. And my Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father." He smiled at the girl before he bit his lip in thought. "But they have the soft hearts of women, so long as I am your King treason shall never go unpunished."

Sansa paled at each word that escaped his mouth until she cried out when he yelled, "Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!"

Ned quickly glanced back at the boy when the words left his mouth and watched as both Cersei and Sansa attempted to change the King's mind, but he was undeterred. The crowd's cheering vanished from his ears and all he could catch was the pleading of his little girl. He struggled as guards forced him to his knees and shoved his head towards the ground, cringing at the familiar sound of his ancestral sword, Ice, being pulled from its sheath.

He spared one more look to his daughter before turning his eyes to the ground, letting them fall shut as he blocked all sounds from his mind. He thought of his wife and each of his children before his thoughts turned to Jon and his dear sister Lyanna. He muttered out an apology and steeled his breath.

Like he told Lord Varys, he learned to die a long time ago.


	28. Chapter 28

"Bran? Brandon?"

The boy in question cracked his eye open at the sound of a strange voice beckoning him. He sat up in his bed but noticed he wasn't in his bed, but lying on the ground. The cold air floated past him lightly as he glanced his eyes around his surroundings, but the absence of any light source made his task infinitely harder. He carefully patted the ground around him until his hand hit a stone wall to his right, he grasped at the wall and pulled himself closer to the structure.

Shuffling to his right caught his ear, "Gods, Brandon I can hear you moving." It was the same woman, Northern by the thick accent that laced her words. He let his hand travel on the wall and curled his fingers around a corner built into it in front of him. He lifted his other arm to the corner and pulled with all the arm strength he had to move his partly paralyzed body around the pitch-black room. He paused as his body moved and frowned at the added pull of his legs as if they had some extra weight on them. He patted the side of his left legs and furrowed his brows when the feel of the limb was not his own, it was too wide and had far more muscle than he had ever felt on himself.

"Brandon!" The ten-year old's attention shot away from his new leg issue when the woman's voice sounded right above him. "Why are you on the floor you fool?" He scanned the area above him but the blackness cloaked the mystery woman from his sight. "Oh, it's too dark for you, isn't it? I don't know why you hate the crypt being this dark anyway. Perfectly natural to me."

The crypt? Is that where he was? Did Hodor bring him here? And how did she know he didn't like the darkness of the vast tomb?

His questions stopped when a torch appeared in front of his face and he leaned back at the flash of light, squinting to catch who was holding the new source of light. When his eyes focused they did little to solve his confusion. The woman holding the torch with her hand and reaching out to him with her other was of average height with long black hair and pale grey eyes, but her face looked exactly like Arya's. But less angry he supposed since a calm smile was stretched across her pink lips as she lightly waved her hand in front of the child. She was dressed in a pale lilac dress and he gasped at the dark bloodstain in the middle of her dress.

"Come on lazy, don't have all day here."

The Stark boy pulled his eyes away from her wounded torso and raised his brow at her insistence, "I can't walk."

The Arya look-alike exasperatedly rolled her eyes. Now she looked exactly like his sister, "Stop joking around, I'm serious. I heard our little brother wandering around and I don't want him getting lost."

"Why is Rickon wandering down here by himself?" He muttered as the black-haired woman eyed him oddly.

"Just come on," She sighed. "I have no idea how I was saddled with one of the most useless men in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Oi," Bran yelped. "Just cause I can't walk doesn't mean I'm useless."

"No Brandon," She agreed. "Lack of leg movement at the moment does not make you useless, but Ned's wandering around lost and I'm worried."

Bran widened his eyes when he heard the nickname many used for his father slip through her lips, and to his surprise, his legs moved as if they had a mind of their own and he leaped to his feet. He stumbled and hit the wall to his right, but the woman's arm reached out to help steady him. She then wrapped her arm tightly around his waist and he leaned on the unnamed woman as they slowly shuffled further into the crypt past his grandfather Rickard's resting place and his aunt Lyanna's before they paused at a space next to the Stark Lady's grave. Bran saw a slight movement in the darkness of the alcove and attempted to walk towards it, but the grey-eyed woman grabbed his waist, successfully keeping him in place.

"Ned?" She whispered. "Is that you?"

The form froze in its pacing but suddenly jerked itself towards the torchlight coming from her left hand. Bran raised himself to stand up straight and looked down upon the woman lightly trembling next to him. He raised his line of sight back to the form and smiled as the man stepped into the light.

Brunette hair, grey eyes, Northern clothing, and a weary but warm smile all gave the man away as Bran's missing father. He tried to run to the older man to embrace him, but once more the woman's arm tugging at his clothes stopped him from hugging his previously lost family member.

"Wait, Brandon," He rolled his eyes at the woman's hesitation.

"It's fine, it's Father," He turned to the Stark patriarch, missing the woman furrowing her brows in confusion. "How did you escape from King's Landing? Did Robb free you? Is he home too? What about Jon, Arya, and Myria?"

He felt the woman jerk back, "Jon?"

Bran ignored her, instead focusing on his father and he finally noticed the man was looking at the two people in front of him with an expression of dread and sadness as if he couldn't believe they stood in front of him. The Stark man gently brought his hand to his neck and Bran frowned at the line of red against his father's throat.

"You're hurt."

Once again his words were met with silence as Eddard Stark remained still. The Lord of Winterfell breathed deeply before words finally slipped from his lips.

"Brandon? Lyanna? Where am I?"

Bran jumped at his father's words and twisted his head to look from the woman next to him and to the statue of his aunt a few feet away, "Wait, you're Lyanna Stark?"

"Ugh," The woman, Lyanna, groaned. "Brandon, stop acting stupid, our brother's scared."

"Brother?" He questioned. "Eddard Stark is my father, not my brother." The other man widened his eyes at the boy's words. "My brothers are Robb, Jon, and Rickon."

Lyanna opened her mouth to retaliate, but Ned's soft voice cut through the air once more, "Bran?"

"Yes," He nodded his head at his father. "Why are you both looking at me like I've gone around the bend?"

Lyanna huffed and tugged on the Stark boy's shirt, dragging him further into the tomb and shoving his face towards a sword set into one of the statues and raised the torch towards it so he caught his reflection in the metal of the sword, except it wasn't his reflection.

The eyes staring back at him were dark grey and his hair was pitch black, he looked like a weird mix of Robb and Jon with a black beard across his jaw and deep purple bruises donning his neck. He pulled back from the opposing reflection and ran his hands over his face, cringing at the roughness of the now apparent beard.

"Honestly Brandon, you're acting as if you've never seen your own face before," Bran ignored Lyanna's snarky words and turned back to his father. For him, it was father and son meeting gazes, but he knew now that Eddard Stark was giving him the same look Robb and Jon shared many a time. He stumbled towards his father or was it brother? as multiple voices filled his ear.

"Bran! Bran! _Bran!_"

"Aaahhh!" Bran shook and thrashed his arms around to get the offending weight off of his chest, opening his eyes to see Rickon laying on the other side of his bed.

"Rickon," Pale blue eyes shot to the doorway and caught Maester Luwin glaring at the youngest Stark child. "You shouldn't jump on your brother to wake him up." The seven-year-old pouted but reluctantly nodded at the Maester's words. The old man then gestured for the young child to remove himself from the room. Bran waited for Rickon to leave before he let his shuddering breaths out, the whole thing was a dream. Just a dream.

He let his breath even out before he let Willow and Hodor come in and assist him in dressing for the day. He sat silent as Hodor lifted him and carried him to the great hall for breakfast with Willow trailing behind. He was seated next to Rickon who was already face-deep in a plate of eggs and sausage, which had the shaken ten-year-old laugh. Willow sat across from Bran and silently picked some fruits and meats to nibble on. Bran joined in the eating with a slice of bread and a small pile of eggs. The meal ended swiftly and Bran was led outside by Hodor while Willow was dragged away by Rickon.

Outside, Hodor placed Bran upon one of the benches by the wall and wandered off. Bran glanced around the area until his eyes landed on the door with two wolf statues next to it which led into the crypts. He narrowed his eyes at the door which was the only barrier to the somber area he had dreamed of two nights in a row, two vastly different dreams.

One dream: The confusing meeting of himself, his dead aunt, his father, and somehow also his dead uncle. He still did not know why he was seeing from the older Brandon Stark's point of view, or why his aunt led him to an empty area of the crypt where his father was residing. And the other dream: he was having target practice when a raven landed on one of the wolf statues and spoke to him, urging him to enter the Stark tomb. But he refused and ran off, which always led to him waking up.

The later dream was a common occurrence over the past week, but the one of him inside the crypt itself was completely new territory. He was pulled from his thinking from a hand on his shoulder and he lifted his eyes to meet Osha's. The Wildling woman smiled worriedly at the boy before sitting by him.

"What's wrong, little Lord?" She asked.

"Dreams," He responded. "I have no idea what they mean."

She nodded and bent before him so he could wrap his arms around her so she could pull him up onto her shoulders to sit, he tightly held her hands with his as she started to walk through the yard.

"One dream had a raven," He started. "It had three eyes. Told me to come with him, but I ran off." She hummed as a signal for him to continue. "And the next one I was down there. I saw my father talking with my dead aunt." He muttered out the shortened version of the confusing dream.

Osha squeezed his hands with her own, "Your father's not down there, little Lord. Not for many years yet." She paused at the entrance to the crypt.

"You're afraid, just like Hodor."

She shook her head, "I'm not afraid of some hole in the ground."

"You lived beyond the wall, what are you scared of?" He raised his brows. "I'm a crippled boy and I'm willing to go."

Osha eyed the door warily before giving up and taking the young Stark into the crypt. The halls were exceedingly dark and the light scattering of torches did little to illuminate the area for the two visitors. Osha switched Bran to her hip and passed him a torch so he could help light the path forward for them. They walked down the hall and came to a statue of an older Stark man sitting in a chair with a sword in his hand.

"That's my grandfather, Lord Rickard. He was burned alive by the Mad King Aerys." Osha continued along the path and came to another male statue baring the face Bran witnessed as his reflection the previous night. "That's my father's older brother, Brandon. He died trying to save his father from the fire the Mad King attacked him with." Then was Lyanna's statue, "That's Lyanna, my father's sister. King Robert was supposed to marry her, but Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapped her. Robert started a war to win her back. He killed Rhaegar, but she died anyway."

The wilding woman gazed at the female statue for a moment but continued her wandering until they reached an empty alcove basked in darkness.

"That's where I saw Father."

"You see?" She asked when they only observed darkness. "He's not here." A growl from the end of the alcove made both Northerners jump and Osha took a step back when she heard footsteps making their way toward the pair. Both screamed and Osha covered Bran with herself when the large jaws of a direwolf shot into view.

Both began to calm when they noticed Rickon coming up behind the beast, "Here Shaggydog."

"Rickon!"

"That beast," The woman huffed. "Is supposed to be chained in the kennels!"

Rickon patted the neck of the large black wolf. "He doesn't like chains."

Bran glared at his younger brother, "What are you doing down here? Come back up with us."

"No, I came to see Father."

Bran quirked his brow at his brother's words, "How many times have I told you, he's in King's Landing with Sansa. Arya is with Robb and Mother in the Riverlands along with Myria and Jon."

"He was down here," The youngest Stark exclaimed. "I saw him."

"Saw him when?"

"Last night," He replied. "When I was sleeping." With that, he slowly led his direwolf back into the darkness of the alcove, almost perfectly blending with the darkness. The wilding woman shared a glance with Bran before they both quickly left the crypts, as they exited they caught the eye of Willow wandering around looking for Rickon and Osha pointed to the door of the tomb, which the other woman smiled at before entering herself to retrieve the younger Lord.

"You both miss him, you know," Osha blurted out as they walked through the yard once more. "It's only natural he should be in your thoughts and some dreams. But that doesn't mean that-" She paused her words when she caught the distressed look upon Maester Luwin's face and glanced down to see a raven's scroll clutched in his hands.

"Bran," The old man wearily addressed the boy. "It's your Father."


	29. Chapter 29

"So you are here to tell me that my husband, who has just been executed for crimes he did not commit, lied to me for over eighteen years about a child I believed was his bastard," Lady Catelyn pondered as she tried to sort through the pain running through her head. "And all of my feelings of shame and inadequacy were pointless as Jon is actually Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark's son."

"Yeah, that's about correct," Myria muttered as she sat across from the enraged woman. She felt like a small child being scolded instead of an adult discussing a serious topic. Why in the Seven Hells did Robb and Jon think it would be better for her to tell Lady Stark. For the Gods sake, her husband was killed a few days ago, and now this stress on top of that?

Why did she agree to this again?

"And why should I believe this fanciful tale?" The widow hotly asked. "It seems that ever since Jon was legitimized and married to you he has been getting all sorts of 'ideas' about how he deserves more in his life."

"Catelyn," The Dornish woman pressed. "This is not something he is falsifying for attention, and this is not something he even wants. He wasn't even planning on telling Robb, but what else is he supposed to do?"

"Not say a thing!" The Tully woman shot out. "Let Robb declare for Stannis Baratheon, and my family can go home when Stannis takes the throne. You convincing Jon of this flimsy right to the throne will only cause more bloodshed!"

"Why do you think he kept his mouth shut when we arrived at the camp? You, Gendry, and Robb are the only ones who know."

"And that is another issue," The older woman spat out. "You drag a stranger, a bastard no less, into Robb's camp and now apparently risk the fate of the Realm by telling him this paramount secret."

"No, you are leaving Gendry out of this," Myria argued. "He may be a bastard in society's eyes, but he is the only friend I ever truly had growing up. He is a good person."

The red-headed woman slammed her hands onto the table, "You seem to enjoy dragging people into my family and then acting like you are in charge of everything. This is not your family, but mine. My children, my...my husband." Instead of finishing her thought, the Stark matriarch burst into tears at the thought of her husband's fate.

The Dayne woman sighed and moved to place her hand upon the sobbing woman's shoulder. She lightly rubbed her back as she cried for her lost love, and the anger in the other woman simmered away. She knew Lady Catelyn was only reacting this way due to her grief and her personal anger at Jon. She also knew that all of the risky moves she had made would pile up eventually in some way, and it seemed she was not the only woman keeping score. But she knew Gendry was her friend and she just wanted him safe, and living on the Wall would be as far from safe as he could be. Perhaps she was biased though since they are all in a war camp at the moment, or maybe she was simply a selfish person.

"I'm sorry for telling you all this Catelyn, And I know Jon is not going to do anything rash at the moment to protect his family," Her words calmed the crying woman to sniffles instead. "Family always comes first, you of all people know that."

"Family, duty, honor. Those are the words of House Tully," She muttered. "But Jon is not a Tully. If all this is true he is a Stark and a Targaryen."

Purple met blue as the two made eye contact, "And everyone knows how honorable the Starks are, and even though some inbreeding cause _some_ madness, the Targaryen Dynasty has ruled Westeros well for over three hundred years."

"I suppose it all is logical, I just wish my family was not the one in the middle of it," Myria waited as Catelyn let out a quiet sigh. "I think I will go see how Robb is holding up at the moment. He acted so strong when we heard the news, but I know it is killing him on the inside."

The mourning woman then rose from her seat and left the tent Jon and Myria had been given a few days ago. As she swept from the tent the guards outside of it back away and bowed their heads in respect to the grieving widow. As she moved through the camp she noticed how all of the soldiers were giving her a wide berth and she hurried her pace towards the treeline she noticed Robb had entered over an hour ago when Myria called her to the tent. As she maneuvered through the trees in the light forests she caught the sound of metal thunking against wood and followed it to a small clearing where her oldest son was hacking away at a tree with his sword.

"Robb," The mother quickly spoke up in the fear of her child hurting himself, "Robb, you've ruined your sword." The auburn man jerked his head to the left and when he caught sight of his mother he began to shake and the dull weapon slipped from his hands. His mother quickly wrapped her arms around him and he let all of his anguish and sorrow fall from him as she sobbed into her arms. "Shhh, shhh," She gently whispered as she gently ran her hand through his hair and rubbed his back in small circles.

"I'll kill them all," He spat out between shudders and sobs. "Everyone of them. I'll kill them all."

"Oh, my boy," Catelyn whispered. "They still have your sister. We have to get Sansa back, and then we will kill them all." She continued to rock her adult son in her arms as they both mourned the loss of Ned in their own way. She slowly pulled away from her son when his crying had come to a stop and wiped the tears and muck off of his face. He smiled at the motherly affection, and leaned into her hand, silently thanking her for comforting him.

"Have you seen Jon?" The Stark woman pulled her lips tight at his name and silently shook her head. "He," Robb stuttered. "He's been wandering off on his own for the past few days and no one knows where he goes, not even Myria." The Stark male pulled further away from his mother's grasp. "I know you both have your issues, but he loved Father too. And I'm worried about my brother."

"Perhaps Arya may know," Catelyn conceded. "I know she's been slipping out of the tent and I've been acting like I don't notice. She's just as angry as you are."

"If you could talk to her, mother," Robb hinted his intentions to her and she lightly tilted her head in reluctant agreement.

She then led Robb back into camp and to his tent and made sure he was settled before she returned to her tent to confront her youngest daughter. Arya had been sharing her tent and ever since the news of her father's death came three days ago she had been leaving the tent more and more. As Lady Stark was slowing her speed to debate on how to breach the topic with her child she noticed Arya slipping from the back of the tent dressed in another tunic and britches and sneaking through the soldiers around the main part of the camp. The Tully woman decided to quietly follow her daughter to learn of her whereabouts over the past few days.

Arya shuffled around each of the soldier groupings stationed throughout the camp and smirked as she slipped by the final ring of them between the treeline to the South and the Umber marked area of the camp. Being small did have advantages and as she broke into a sprint towards the trees she became elated at her latest escape. She felt bad for leaving her mother and Myria to grieve alone, but she couldn't handle all of the pitiful looks she receives from the men and the Northern Lords. She reached a small creek and jumped on the small bridge of rocks to quickly cross and laughed as she slipped on one of the smaller stepping stones into the water.

The small girl spun her head around when she swore she caught a gasp from behind her, scanning the trees for anything that could indicate a follower. When she didn't see any moving forms she pulled herself from the shallow water and continued on her route. She past through a large thicket of trees and squeezed through a small opening between the wooden masses to a secluded clearing in the wooden sanctuary.

The oak trees curved slightly into the grassy area giving cover form the sun's rays, and the creek further back flowed through the area giving off the fresh scent of wet grass and rainwater. Arya smiled when she caught the form of Jon sitting by the water, but a frown grew on her face when he failed to acknowledge her entrance. The she-wolf shuffled over to stand behind her brother and narrowed her eyes at the colorful, rock-like shapes placed in front of his kneeling form. He had been sneaking here since the news came and hiding with stupid rocks, Arya didn't understand why he cared about them so much.

"Did Father give them to you?" She asked quietly. She had been trying to pry information out of him for the past three days and she was sure he was sick of her constant questioning.

"Aye, he did," Jon finally muttered. "For a wedding gift."

"Why would he give you rocks for a wedding gift? And why do you care about them so much?"

Jon slightly turned his head in his sister's direction, "You know who I am yes?"

"Duh, you're my brother," She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Arya," The man smirked. "You always cross your arms over your chest when you lie."

The girl deflated and begrudgingly uncrossed her offending limbs, huffing as she dropped to the ground. "Alright! I eavesdropped the other night, happy?" She scooted closer to her brother's side and leaned her head onto his shoulder. "But what does it matter if you're a Targaryen? You're still you, Jon."

The somber man wrapped his arm around the small girl as he stared at the sunlight peeking through the tree branches, "I'm glad you think so, that's all I've ever wanted to be." He then grasped the warm, cream-colored egg and placed it in Arya's hands. "They're dragon eggs. A gift from both of my fathers I suppose."

The Stark girl's eyes nearly bulged out of her head at the new information, and carefully cradled the egg she had been given. She gently traced the scaled ridges on the shell as she handled the small item.

"So are you trying to hatch them?"

"Don't know how," The man admitted as he watched his sister place the small egg next to its siblings before picking up the black and red one next. "Guess they bring me some peace, and I know that _we_" He raised his brow at the girl, "should not be sneaking from camp, but it's dangerous to have them lying around in the open."

Arya ignored her brother's jab but nodded her head at the explanation. Hard to keep a secret if it's right in front of everyone to see, "Could win the war faster with dragons."

Jon chuckled, "Aye, we could."

Arya carefully laid the black egg back down before leaping to her feet and placing her hands upon her hips, "And I could be a dragon rider!" She exclaimed happily. "Think of it! They could be as big as Balerion the Black Dread!"

"Or they could be small and sickly, like the last dragons," The grey-eyed man pointed out.

"They were small only cause they were locked away," The Northern girl argued. "A dragon of the North would be as free as the winter wind."

Jon nodded at his sister's insistence and offered a hand to her as he rose from his place on the grass. Arya gripped his arm and he hauled her up and then bent over to scoop the eggs back into the velvet pouch he had been storing them in. As he turned to face the way back into camp he noticed the hem of a dark blue dress sticking out from behind a tree and patted his sister's back, "Go on back to camp before your mother knows your gone, she doesn't need the extra worry." The ten-year-old groaned but conceded and slipped back through the small crawl space she had entered through when she first arrived. Jon waited until he couldn't hear her running through the trees, keeping his eye on the large tree hiding the woman, "I never pegged you for sneaking, Lady Stark."

The older woman jumped as he called out to her, and embarrassingly peeled herself off of the tree she was hiding behind, "I apologize for my actions, but I was worried about Arya." She kept her eyes to the ground ashamed of her actions. "Robb's been looking for you as well."

"Well, thank you for letting me know, my Lady," Catelyn flinched at the sarcasm dripping from the man's tone. She spared a glance up and shuffled out of the way as Jon moved out of the clearing and back towards camp. She slowly followed after him, politely keeping her distance and relaxed when the tops of the tents came into view. Once the pair had re-entered the camp together, a sight she was embarrassed about but not noticed by others, Jon turned to walk towards his tent when Catelyn's hand caught the back of his cloak.

"I know you miss Ned too, and I'm sorry for listening in on your private conversation," Jon gently released his cloak from her hand while shrugging his shoulders.

"You were worried about your daughter, Lady Stark," He lifted the flap of his tent, but paused before he entered. "But that is not the apology I wish for, good day." The widow let out a breath of relief when his form had fully disappeared into the tent before continuing on her way to her own tent.

She slipped into her personal space but paused at the sight of her two children sitting together on the ground with their dire wolves laying on either side of them. "Mother," Robb rose from his place on the rug and embraced her tightly, "How are you feeling?"

"Better," She patted his back and pulled away. "How are you doing Robb?"

"As good as I can be," He bit his lip and turned back to his sister, "Arya here was telling me about Jon's dragon eggs."

"Robb!" The girl whined from the floor. "That's supposed to be a secret."

"Then why tell me?"

"Because you said I can't ride a horse, but I said if they hatch then I can ride one of them," She defended her loose tongue. Catelyn's spirit brightened at the bickering between her two children.

"Well, as fun as that sounds it has been over a century since a dragon has existed in the world," The mother took a seat at the small circular table by her daughter's sitting area. "I highly doubt they will return now."

"You never know Mother," Robb added. "I heard from Old Nan once that it only takes some sort of blood magic to hatch them, hence the Targaryen words 'fire and blood.'"

"What utter nonsense," The Tully woman rolled her eyes. "The Targaryen words stem from their determination in battle, and what they will use to enact their revenge on those who wrong them."

"I like Robb's idea better," Arya perked up. "Sounds more fun and mysterious."

"Honestly, Arya," Her mother sighed. "When did you become so feisty? I remember you used to be so sweet."

"That was before I grew up," The girl rolled her eyes at her mother's longing voice. "I'm not like Sansa who swoons at any knight who walks by her." Arya paused when she noticed her mother's saddened look from hearing of her eldest daughter. "But I'm sure she's fine since she knows how to act like a perfect lady."

Robb nodded in agreement with his sister, "Yes I'm certain the Lannisters would never harm her, she's too valuable to them." He motioned to Greywind and the lumbering canine rose from his spot next to Nymeria padding over to his master. "I have to go prepare for a meeting of the Lords for our next course of action," He tilted his head to his mother. "If you wish to observe the meeting you may." With the invitation offered he stepped out of the tent.

A few hours later Catelyn was dragging her daughter through the camp towards the center where the men had laid out long tables and chairs for the Lords to hold the public decision over what their next course of action would be now that Robb was officially their new Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. She was luckily able to shove her daughter once more into a dress after tossing away all of the male clothing she found in the tent. How Arya was able to still acquire them she had no idea, but the Stark matriarch insisted on a dress for such a formal occasion, and the girl stubbornly agreed. Both females approached the meeting area in dark Stark grey dresses and the mother smiled at her daughter's light tugging and pulling on the outfit. When they reached the long tables Catelyn caught sight of Robb and Jon sitting next to each other both donned fully in Northern clothing, from metal chest plates with a brown jerkin underneath to the matching wolf's fur cloak the both had draped over their shoulders. She also noticed Myria sitting to Jon's left with a dark purple dress under her own cloak and her hair half pinned up in a simple Northern braided crown. She also caught the form of Theon Greyjoy sitting next to the Dornish Lady, sharing a small conversation with her.

The two Stark men caught sight of the other women and rose from their chairs to pull the empty chairs next to Robb out for them to take their seats. Lady Catelyn gracefully took the seat next to her son and Arya plopped into the chair next to her Jon was holding onto. The Lord next to the ten-year-old, Greatjon Umber, let out a small laugh at the girl's grumpy face before quieting down when Jon took his seat once more and Robb remained standing.

The meeting commenced and it was only a few minutes later when the heated arguing began, "The proper course is clear," Lord Glover announced. "Pledge felty to King Renly and move south to join our forces with his."

"Renly is not the King," Robb pointed out.

The Lord of Deepwood Motte scoffed, "You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey, my Lord? He put your father to death."

"That doesn't make Renly a king," Robb argued.

"Aye," Lord Karstark agreed. "He's Robert's younger brother, Jon here cannot be Lord of Winterfell before Robb. So Renly can't be King before Stannis." Jon gave a sarcastic glance to his wife when she giggled at the Lord's example.

Lord Manderly quirked his brow, "Do we mean to declare for Stannis?"

"Renly is the right," Lord Glover spat back.

"My Lords," Lord Umber cut into the arguing and rose to his feet and walked to the center of the area. "My Lords!" The din of voices lessened at his raised voice. "He is what I say to these two kings," He spat at the ground in response and the other Lords chimed in sounds of approval. "Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in the South?" He turned to face the Stark family. "What do they know of the war or the Wolfswood? Even their Gods are wrong!" The rest of the Lords shared a laugh at his point. "Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we bowed to and now the dragons are dead."

The other Lords murmured words of agreement, but a soft tone from further down the tables caught Greatjon's ear, "You might find yourself wrong, Lord Umber." The large man swung his body around and locked eyes with the Lord of Greywater Watch, Howland Reed.

"Ah, the Little Crannogman disagrees?" The Greatjon answered. "Which of these Southern Lords do you think we should lay down our lives for then?"

Lord Reed shook his head and the mirth in his murky greens eyes confused the Lord of Last Hearth, "I said you were wrong, Umber, but not about the Baratheon brothers."

"He means the point you made about breaking from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms," Robb spoke up. "If we did that it would only paint a target on our backs."

"But we would be fighting for our freedom," Lord Umber persisted.

"This fight is not about our freedom," Robb began. "It is about doing what is right for everyone, not just the North. If we break away as an independent Kingdom we still leave the other six locked in a Civil War that could destroy them all."

The Greatjon glared at his Liege Lord, "Let the Southerners fight themselves to death."

Lady Stark cut in, "How would that help anyone? The moment they stop fighting a victor will appear and force the North to their knees once more."

Robb nodded at his mother, "We need a king who will not see the North as a chess piece, but as a strong and diverse people," The Northern Lords made noises of agreement with the new Lord of Winterfell. "We also need a king who has strong ties to the other Kingdoms."

"Renly has recently married Lady Margaery Tyrell," Lord Glover offered. "That would bring most of the Stormlands and the Reach into the fold."

"True, Lord Glover," Robb agreed. "However there may be someone who would benefit the Realm far more than Renly or Stannis, someone who can even pull Dorne into the fold."

"You can't be speaking for the Targaryen girl, Lord Stark," Lord Manderly raised his brow at the Young Wolf.

"A Targaryen yes, but not Daenerys."

Robb's declaration sent a roar of sound through the crowd of noblemen as they shouted out sounds of outrage mixed with shock. Jon rolled his eyes at the foolish squabbling before he rose from his seat and let out a shrill whistle, causing many in attendance to quiet their voice and cover their ears.

The Lords resituated themselves before Lord Umber once again spoke up from the crowd, "You can't truly mean it, my Lord," He glanced at the Stark man.

"I do, and as Northern bannermen, I understand your worry of any who bears the Targaryen name," Robb acknowledged the mass of gentry. "However, you yourself said the North only bowed to the dragons of old. A dragon is the only hope for peace in the Seven Kingdoms." There was a small noise of grudging agreement through the crowd of lords.

"And who is this man you claim is a Targaryen?" Lord Bolton poised to the auburn Lord. "Surely if we plan to falsify a man to be Prince Aegon Targaryen, as logically he would have been the only male heir left, we need a man of Valyrian features." The Lord of the Dreadfort smirked to himself since there was no way the young man's plan would hold up in reality.

But to the confusion of the Lords, Jon Stark slowly walked around the table to stand next to Robb and the Greatjon, who remained in the center of the clearing.

"My name is Jon Stark, it used to be Snow until the late King Robert Baratheon legitimized me. I was raised in Winterfell by Lord Eddard Stark alongside Robb and the rest of Lady Catelyn's children."

"And what does a legitimized bastard know of this grand plan?" Lord Bolton jokingly asked.

"It's not some fanciful plan Robb concocted if that's what you believe," Jon shot out towards the Flayed Lord. "Stark's are made of honor, his father died trying to do the right thing for the Seven Kingdoms. And Eddard Stark's honor is the only reason why I am alive today."

"Aye," The Greatjon's son, the Smalljon chimed in. "I doubt my father would keep a bastard in Last Hearth in fear of my mother's wrath." The men around him chuckled, but his enjoyment was short-lived when his father smacked him upside the head for his insolence.

Jon raised his brow, but let the comment slide, "Lord Eddard saved my life, not from his wife's ire, but the wrath of King Robert Baratheon eighteen years ago near the end of the Rebellion," His words sent a wave of silence through the group of Lords as they waited for his next. "Robert's hatred for my father was legendary, and I doubt how much he loved my mother would have saved me back then."

"It is well known Robert Baratheon loved Lord Stark," Roose Bolton pointed out as he interrupted the man.

"But," The older man's head turned to the soft voice of Jon's Dornish wife. "Robert's hatred for Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was so vast he still wished for the death of his sister seventeen years after he took the man's life on the Trident."

"Aye, thank you Myria," Jon chimed in as his wife once again took her seat. "My wife is correct, it was no secret of Robert's. He hated the Targaryen man for stealing his betrothed, Lyanna Stark. So Eddard Stark lied to his King, his wife, his friends, even myself to protect a secret he promised to his dying sister."

Robb stepped up to stand next to the black-haired man, "May I present to the Lords of the North, Son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lady Lyanna Stark: Jaehaerys Targaryen, third of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

As Robb's words seeped into the mind of each Lord in attendance the Greatjon unsheathed his sword and stepped towards the Stark Lord and Targaryen male. The pair tensed at the Lord's approached but calmed as he raised the sword and slammed it into the ground, kneeling before the two men.

"I said it myself, we only bowed to the dragons," He nodded his head towards Jon. "And I will stand by my words, by vows, and by you. Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen, the Dragon of the North, the rightful King!"

Lord Glover rose from his seat, "I'll have peace on those terms."

Jon glanced behind him when he heard another rise and watched as Theon joined him and Robb in front of the Lords, "Am I your brother? Now and always?"

Jon and Robb both nodded, "Now and always." Theon then removed his own sword and joined the two Lords kneeling.

"My sword is yours, in victory and defeat. From this day until my last day."

Lord Umber smiled at the Greyjoy before he locked eyes with the steel orbs of the man standing before him and yelled out, "The Dragon of the North!"

With Umber's final exclamation the rest of the Northern Lords rose and joined in his cheering, kneeling to their new King with their swords offered to him in service. Jon glanced around at the whole of Lords kneeling before him and widened his eyes when Robb removed his sword and kneeled before him as well.

"My brother, and my King."

With Robb's declaration, the rest of the Lords once again broke into cheers and celebration, but Jon tuned the sound out as he met the eyes of his wife. Everything was about to change, and he hoped it was for the best.


End file.
